It is not x reader if you describe the readers fucking key features.
“As he gazed into your blue eyes…” I have brown eyes.
“You’re pale porcelain skin.” I’m black
“Your hair was a mess but you were late so you put it in a messy bun and ran out the house.” I have short ass dread locs.
Genuinely I’m getting sick of this shit. It’s sad that POC creators have to make their own fanfics and specify it’s only for POC because anything else uses specific attributes that usually only a white person could have. It’s such a fucking turn off to read a good fucking story and then for some reason the author has to fuck it up by adding “your silky hair.” Like wtf is happening? If you have a person in mind then you can make it a character x oc that’s okay! But it is NOT x reader when you’re literally turning us into something that’s not even us. Like do some of yall not realize white peoples are not the only ones reading this shit? Ik many ppl have addressed this but some ppl rlly aren’t changing and it’s just so odd to me. If u want to specify how the “reader” looks. Do everyone a favor and just say it’s an OC there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not fair to people. And it’s not even just about POC. Just in general. Like imagine a brunette reading that shit and it says “your beautiful blonde hair” like???? It’s not fair, it’s just weird. It’s not x reader, it’s x oc and seriously that’s okay!
It is not x reader if you describe the readers fucking key features.
“As he gazed into your blue eyes…” I have brown eyes.
“You’re pale porcelain skin.” I’m black
“Your hair was a mess but you were late so you put it in a messy bun and ran out the house.” I have short ass dread locs.
Genuinely I’m getting sick of this shit. It’s sad that POC creators have to make their own fanfics and specify it’s only for POC because anything else uses specific attributes that usually only a white person could have. It’s such a fucking turn off to read a good fucking story and then for some reason the author has to fuck it up by adding “your silky hair.” Like wtf is happening? If you have a person in mind then you can make it a character x oc that’s okay! But it is NOT x reader when you’re literally turning us into something that’s not even us. Like do some of yall not realize white peoples are not the only ones reading this shit? Ik many ppl have addressed this but some ppl rlly aren’t changing and it’s just so odd to me. If u want to specify how the “reader” looks. Do everyone a favor and just say it’s an OC there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not fair to people. And it’s not even just about POC. Just in general. Like imagine a brunette reading that shit and it says “your beautiful blonde hair” like???? It’s not fair, it’s just weird. It’s not x reader, it’s x oc and seriously that’s okay!
It’s the first beach day of the summer and you and your boyfriend make time to go to the beach. You take off your coverup, and suddenly your boyfriend can't look away from you.
Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou Kaiser, Sae,
Requests: OPEN
🎀 Alexis Ness
When you take off your cover-up:
It wasn't hard to get Ness on board to go to the beach with you; he was more than happy to go with you. It's a win, a small break from games and he gets to spend time with the love of his life.
He’s sweet about it from the jump.
When you peel off your cover-up, Ness was fixing a towel, about to ask you something, when he paused, blinked, took one look at you, and instantly cleared his throat. There was a slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, and he looks away like he wasn’t just staring.
"You look… really good," he mumbles, voice a bit lower than usual.
You look over at Ness before smiling, walking a little closer as your shadow casts over Ness. You tease him, but he doesn’t fight back. He just grins, soft and bashful, sneaking glances at your legs, your waist, then quickly looking away when he catches your eye.
Under the umbrella, when you untie your top and ask him to put sunscreen on your back, he pauses.
"O-Oh, uh. Yeah. Sure."
His hands were shaky but warm and gentle. He barely presses down, moving like he thinks you might break if he touches too hard. And when he ties your top back, it’s almost reverent.
In the water, when guys start staring:
After talking and eating the lunch you packed, you got up and held your hand out to Ness, and Ness took your hand with no hesitation.
You were tossing water at Ness, blissfully unaware of the eyes lingering on you. But Ness noticed. And all that softness? It's gone. Just for a moment, he clenches his jaw and straightens his back, putting his arm around you. Pulls you close like it’s nothing. You laugh, calling him clingy. He doesn’t respond. Just smiles. Eyes sharp. Like he’s daring someone to keep looking.
He doesn’t say anything at first. You drop the cover-up, and he just blinks, brows slightly raised. You can see the gears turning. Whatever is going on in that head of his, you can't figure out. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move.
“Hiori?” You tilt your head.
“Huh? Oh, you look beautiful.” He says, voice soft, smile even softer.
You let out a soft sigh, glad he liked the bathing suit, before walking over towards him. You tease him for staring, and he just rubs the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath in that low accent.
Under the umbrella, he’s hesitant. He doesn't look like it, but on the inside, he hesitates. You hand him the sunscreen, untie your top, and lay down. He’s quiet for a second.
“You sure?”
“I trust you,” you reply.
That’s all it takes. He smooths it on gently, focused and calm, not saying a word unless you do. Ties your top back slowly. Carefully.
In the water, when guys start staring:
He doesn’t get angry, well not exactly. In the corner of your eye you can see Hiori staring off in the distance, his expression still neutral. You opened your mouth, about to ask him what he was doing when he just wraps an arm around your waist and moves slightly in front of you. You look over slightly and finally see what was bothering him so much, then look up at him and ask if he’s jealous. He shakes his head.
You take off your cover-up and Shidou just stands there, full-on ogling like he’s never seen a swimsuit in his life. 0 shame.
You huff and roll your eyes, looking away. You ask him to close his mouth. He grins, he doesn’t.
Under the umbrella, when you untie your top and ask him to help with sunscreen, he lights up.
“You’re giving me permission to touch you?”
You roll your eyes, again.
He still takes his sweet time rubbing it in, mumbling things like “this is so unfair” and “you’re gonna kill me” the whole time. When he ties your top back, he kisses your shoulder.
In the water, when guys start staring:
In the water, when someone checks you out, he’s not subtle. He wraps his arms around your waist, presses a kiss behind your ear, and glares daggers at whoever’s staring.
“Keep lookin’,” he mutters, voice low and sharp. “See what happens.”
Like, a little stunned exhale through his nose. You pull off your cover-up, and he just blinks. Stares. Then rubs his jaw like he needs a second. He opens his mouth to say something, before huffing and looking away.
You smirk. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about how you should’ve warned him.
When you ask him to do your back under the umbrella, he clicks his tongue, grabs the bottle, and mutters, “You’re not slick.”
Still, he does it. Slowly. Intentionally. Like he was punishing you.
And when he ties the strings again? He pulls the knot snug and leans down, lips near your ear.
“If anyone looks at you like I just did, that's their head."
You think he’s joking, until a guy actually does stare.
In the water, when guys start staring:
Kaiser doesn’t say anything. He turns his head to the side so you can't see his expression, but he's staring directly at the boys staring at you. He just moves to stand behind you. One hand on your hip. The other on your waist. It was subtle, but you could lightly feel his grip tightening slightly. Possessive. Silent.
You just hope that Kaiser doesn't actually drown those guys...
You wait for him to say something. He doesn’t. His expression still blank as ever.
Just walks up, leans in, and whispers, “Cute.”
And then walks off.
You blink. Confused.
Later, under the umbrella, when you untie your top and hand him the sunscreen, he smirks.
“You’re bold today.”
Still, he applies it. Smooth. Effortless. Doesn’t look too long. Doesn’t get flustered. Just does it like it’s routine. But when he ties your top again, his hands linger. Barely. Like he didn't wanna pull away just yet.
In the water, when guys start staring:
In the water, when a guy looks for too long, he steps up beside you. No arms. No flirting. Just a glance. He literally didn't even have to touch you to get his point across. You nudge him. “Possessive much?” He shrugs.
It’s the first beach day of the summer and you and your boyfriend make time to go to the beach. You take off your coverup, and suddenly your boyfriend can't look away from you.
Part 2: Barou, Yukimiya, Aiku, Gagamaru, Otoya, and Karasu
Requests: OPEN
🦁 Barou Shoei
When you take off your cover-up:
You’re standing near the grill on the beach, the warm summer breeze blowing through. You waved the smoke out of your face and laughed about the charcoal not lighting fast enough. You took a look at the Sun starting to set before realizing it was about time to get in the water, and with a quiet giggle, you tug off your cover-up and toss it onto the beach chair behind you. Barou glances over, then stiffens completely. His jaw tightened as his eyes snapped back to the grill. Then back to you. Then back to the grill. He looks like he’s trying not to react. At all. But the flush creeping up his neck says otherwise.
You catch him. Raise a brow. “Something wrong?”
He grunts. Shrugs. Doesn’t answer. But when you turn away to help someone open a drink, he mutters under his breath,
“What the hell is that swimsuit…”
Not because he doesn’t like it. Because he does. Way too much.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You’re laying on your stomach, back arched slightly, top untied like it’s nothing. “Babe, can you do my back?”
Barou stares at you, just a little bit longer than usual. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak.
“Shouei?”
He huffs and sits up from the plastic white chair, grabbing the bottle of sunscreen and squirting a bit into his hand. Then kneels beside you with a focused look. He starts rubbing it in, slow yet firm, and doesn't waste a moment. He’s methodical about it, up to your shoulders, down your back, careful not to make it weird. But his hands pause, only once, and that's right around your waist. Then he clears his throat and finishes up, tying your top back with a quiet but deadly, “You’re lucky I don’t make you wear a jacket out here.”
You smirk. “Jealous much?”
“No. But I’m not sharing either.”
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re splashing around, laughing, having fun. Barou’s standing nearby, half drenched, looking completely unimpressed. Until he sees two guys at the edge of the surf eyeing you a little too long. Barou felt himself getting pissed off, but decied to act calm, not make a scene. He walkes over, one arm wraps around your waist. Then another. He pulls you to him like it’s instinct. Tight. Protective. His lips right by your ear.
“Let them look.”
You blink, a little amused. “Oh?”
“They’ll stop once they realize they don’t get a second chance.”
He’s mid-convo with a friend who was visiting from out of town, sunglasses on, sipping something iced. You were watching from afar, tilting your head when you walked by and casually pulled off your cover-up. It takes a second for him to realize, then he turns his head really slow, and freezes. His mouth parts slightly. His grip on the cup tightens. And for a solid three seconds, he forgets every single thing he was just saying.
You catch the look. “Something wrong?”
“No,” he says too quickly. “You just… you didn’t tell me that swimsuit was gonna look like that.”
You grin. “Like what?”
He swallows. Adjusts his sunglasses, clearing his throat and looking towards the side with a tiny smirk on his lips. “Like a problem.”
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You untie your top, lay down without a second thought, and hand him the sunscreen bottle.
“Kenyu? My back?”
He hesitates, not because he’s shy, but because he’s thinking about every man within fifty feet. Still, he smiles and takes the bottle before kneeling beside you, voice low.
“You really want me doing this out here?”
“You scared?”
He smirks. “No, why would I be?”
He rubs it in, slow and practiced, hands gentle but precise. His fingers ghost across your back, brushing the curve of your waist. And when he’s done, he ties the top again with care. Then leans down, lips brushing your ear.
“But I won't forget this."
In the water, when guys start staring:
He sees them. Of course he sees them. (Hahah I'm so funny ifykyk) He doesn’t make a scene. Doesn’t glare. Just calmly pulls you closer by the hips, expression smooth but eyes sharp.
You raise a brow. “Something wrong?”
“No,” he says, glancing back at the guys. “Just reminding them what they can’t have.”
You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck. “A little clingy today, huh?”
His hands slide lower, resting just above the backs of your thighs.
He’s lounging back on the beach chair, shirt open, sunglasses low, fully relaxed with a pina colada in his hand. The view was great, summer was in the air, and the weather was perfect. As Aiku went to pick up his drink and take another sip, a figure flashed past him, and he stopped what he was doing so quick. You were walking past your boyfriend, lifting your covering up over your head before holding it in one arm, revealing your swimsuit. He lifts his sunglasses slowly. Stares. Then exhales a low whistle. “Well damn.”
You glance over your shoulder. “What?”
“That swimsuit is bold."
You laugh, brushing sand off your leg. “You’re dramatic.”
“Not dramatic enough,” he mutters, still staring with a giant smirk.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You hand him the bottle, already laying on your stomach with your top untied. He blinks once. “You serious right now?”
“Very.”
He cracks a grin. “You really trust me with this?”
“Your hands are steadier than mine."
He kneels beside you, starts rubbing it in slow. Too slow.
“You're enjoying this a little too much,” you tease.
“I’m suffering, actually,” he mumbles, smiling while his eyes are locked on your back.
He finishes up, ties your top carefully, and leans down and gave the back of your neck a gentle kiss before whispering. “You’re dangerous, y’know that?”
In the water, when guys start staring:
He sees it. All of it. And he doesn’t just pull you closer, he wraps both arms around your waist from behind, chin on your shoulder.
You raise a brow. “You good?”
“Not really,” he mutters, glaring past you. “They need to back the hell off.”
You giggle, whispering, “Jealous?”
He shrugs, holding you tighter. “Nah. Just loving you."
He’s not paying much attention at first, just helping unpack everything from the trunk. the towels, sunscreen, umbrellas, and flip-flops. He has these bags on both his broad shoulders with his usual blank expression, already scanning the beach like it’s a soccer field. Gagamaru was looking around for where you decided you wanted to sit, and there you were. You were standing up, pulling the coverup over your head as the breeze flew in, blowing your hair slightly as you set your coverup down. He freezes. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open. The towel in his hands just… drops.
You glance at him. “What?”
He blinks. “Nothing."
Then looks away. But not for long.
Because every couple seconds, he’s sneaking glances. Quick ones. Like he thinks you won’t notice. Like he’s trying to memorize it and still play it cool, even if he’s clearly not.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You pulled your hair up into a high ponytail before laying down on top of your beach towel lying on your stomach, top untied, handing him the bottle. He stares at it. Then at your back.
“… You want me to use this on you?"
You laugh. “ Yes silly, who else?"
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Right.”
He’s careful. Ridiculously careful. His hands are big, warm, a couple scars over them, and lastly a little clumsy. But he moves slow, like he’s scared to mess it up. Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t even breathe too loud. When he’s done, he ties your top and sits back, cheeks pink, avoiding your eyes.
“You okay?” you ask, smiling.
He nods once. “Yes." (He's so not.)
In the water, when guys start staring:
Gagamaru notices immediately. He did grow up in the mountains after all, his senses are on point. His face remains blank as always, but if you looked closely, you could see his jaw tighening just ever so slightly. And suddenly, without a sound, as if he could somehow teleported, he’s behind you, one arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest like it’s instinct.
You feel your face heat up before looking up at your boyfriend with a laugh. “You good, babe?”
He nods. “They’re not.” He says bluntly, still looking dead at the guys staring with beers in their hands.
You glance back and catch the glare he’s throwing, basically giving them a warning.
He doesn’t say anything else. Just holds you there. Close. Where everyone can see.
He’s mid-sip of his drink, shirt open, talking with a couple of his party friends about the party later tonight. Everyone was talking about whatever was gonna happen later tonight, who was going to be there what drinks. Of course he was gonna bring you along, he always brings you unless you say otherwise, so needless to say, at the moment his attention wasn't on you exactly, till you walked by. You were walking ahead, pulling your cover up over your head while heading over to the bar, smiling brightly. And for a moment, Otoya just stares. And all of a sudden, he didn't care what his boys were talking about. His eyes were stuck!
Then: “…Damn.”
You raise an eyebrow at him from across the resort before going back to ordering your drink. (nonalcoholic) He tries to smirk, but his green eyes betrayed him, wide and clearly impressed. Though he recovers fast, but like a ninja, he was next to you in no time. Sliding up beside you with that usual lazy charm.
“You wore that just to mess with me, didn’t you?”
You laugh. “Maybe.”
He licks his lips, watching you grab your straw and napkin before speaking. “Yeah, not surprised."
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
It's just you and your boyfriend now, both sitting under the umbrella. His friends were still there, but he decied to spend some time with you before the party, but now, you were laying down. Top untied, bottle of sunscreen in hand.
“You mind?” You asked, handing him the bottle before lying down fully on the warm towel.
Otoya takes the bottle from you, tossing it up in the air and catching it before opening it and leaning down. atches it, leans down, and whistles.
“You’re really testing it today." But he starts, hands gliding slowly and practiced. Not shy, no not at all, but focused. Intentional. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t grope. (surprisingly) Just takes his time, pressing his palms into your skin like he wants to memorize it. And when he leans down to tie your top again, he murmurs, “You know, you owe me for this.”
You look over your shoulder. “For sunscreen?”
He smirks and nods his head before getting up like it was nothing.
In the water, when guys start staring:
Otoya notices after a little bit.
He was more fixated on trying to get you back for splashing him when he felt eyes on you and him. He decided to look over his shoulder just for a moment, before looking over at you, he doesn’t even hesitate, walks right over and wraps his arms around you from behind, and kisses your shoulder.
His voice drops near your ear. “You see them?”
You chuckle and nod.
He tightens his grip just a little. “Good. I want them to look. But they’re not getting shit.”
You laugh, but he’s not joking. He glares right back at them, head tilted, daring them to say something. They don’t. He smiles. And then pulls you deeper into the water.
He’s already lounging under the umbrella, his legs stretched out with his sunglasses on, drink half-melted in his hand. His mind was wandering from place to place, wondering what you were gonna eat later, what movie to watch, all that when he saw you from under his sunglasses. You were pulling off your cover up. smooth yet quick while heading towards the water like it was nothing. But Karasu? He nearly dropped his cup. He sits up in his chair slightly, slowly, glasses sliding down his nose, eyes following every step.
“…Damn.”
He isn't loud, doesn't say something stupid. But when you glance back at him, he gives you a low whistle with a smirk on his lips. You just grin.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You drop onto the towel placed by Karasu's chair, pulling your hair over your shoulder before handing him the bottle of sunscreen before resting your head on your arms.
“Can you get my back?”
He raises an eyebrow while fighting a smirk to form on his lips. “Really? Geez you're a full time job."
Still, he takes the bottle, slicks his hands, and starts rubbing it in. He’s not shy, but not doing too much either. But the closer his hands get to the tie of your top, the slower they move.
“You doin’ this on purpose?” he mutters.
You smile into your arms. “What, trusting my boyfriend?”
He huffs a laugh. “Shut up."
Still, he ties your top back, smooth and swift before giviing your sides a firm tap.
“All done. Unless you need help with the front too.”
In the water, when guys start staring:
Karasu noticed quickly, given his eyes were on you. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, if anything he liked it, but decides not to make a scene. He just swims over and stands up, grabbing your wrist before pulling you up into his arms. A firm hand dropping under your thighs.
“..What are you doing?" You ask raising a brow.
He grins, pulling you closer. "Holding you. Is that a problem?"
You chuckle and look away, shaking your head.
He smirks. “Cool. I'm not letting go anytime soon." He said before turning his head, locking eyes with one of the guys watching for a moment. Then he smiles. But it’s not nice. It’s the kind of smile that makes people look away, and they do.
“Clingy,” You tease.
“Territorial,” He corrects, arms still wrapped around you.
I know this is high key different from my usual posts, but can we talk about how there are clear mental illnesses in Blue Lock? And they're shown, yk, you can see them, but it's not really talked about. Like, I know that I sound like like those BL fans reaching but. I can’t be the only one who was worried for Nagi going home by himself, because to me, he's always shown signs of depression, in my opinion. So I did not like the fact of him being alone in his apartment with his thoughts.💀
And that’s just one example! Barou to me looks like he has OCD, Bachira to me looks like schizophrenia, Nagi depression, Isagi social Anxiety, Hiroi depression, this example isn’t mental illness but Rin Abandonment issues, Sae is emotionally withdrawn, don’t even get me STARTED on Kaiser bruh.
I feel like the author of BL does a great job of SHOWING these issues but I feel like he, he teases the idea of going deeper into these issues and that’s it. I feel like acknowledging it would take BL to a whole different level of maturity in showing how mental health and sports tie into each other. Just acknowledging does a lot for the story. It doesn’t have to be giant thing it could be something as simple as Reo physically checking up on Nagi to make sure he’s ok. And the author CAN do that which is the frustrating part. If he can write a character as deep as Kaiser then I feel like he can simply acknowledge mental health.
Anyways that’s it for my little Blue Lock rant I plan on finishing up the ‘Waves and Sunscreen’ request today :)
hi marie!! ok i KNOW ur kinda new here but fr i just gotta say… ur fics?? SO GOOD. like for real i fell in love w ur writing right away 😭 i love how u write diff bluelock characters too i swear i LIIIIVE for ur fics 💕💕
sooo uh i got a lil req if u don’t mind hehe 😁 was thinkin maybe u could do a series w diff bluelock boys?? idea’s kinda like:
the boys & reader goin to the beach n when reader takes off her coverup n shows a 🔥 swimsuit he just… freezes. straight up BLUSHIN so hard bc it’s the first time he’s seen her like that 😭 reader just laughs n teases him while he keeps sneakin lil glances. then later under the umbrella she’s like “hey can u put sunscreen on my back?” n she unties her top n lays down n he’s SO flustered tryna rub it in carefully. ties her back up after n they go in the water but then he sees dudes checkin her out. he gets all jealous n pulls her close, hands on her waist, hips, even taps her butt lol holdin her tight like “she’s mine.” then he sees a guy STILL starin n he glares n mouths “imma kill u” while reader’s gigglin callin him clingy n he just hugs her tighter lmaoo
i know it’s kinda long 😭😭 but i wanted 2 make it clear hehe hope u like it 🤭 ANYWAY i love ur fics so bad girl u keep SLAYIN 💋 ur fics r like comfort food fr idk how u keep doin it but not surprised tbh ur brain??? UNSTOPPABLE. every fic’s a banger don’t stop bestie 💋💋 keep killin it 💕❤️
Got me cheeseing over here omg. You don't know how much these messages mean to me, like, actually. It's ironic as a writer that I do not have the words to say how much this means to me :,) So thank you. <3 (also I love this request)
Waves and Sunscreen
Requested.
It’s the first beach day of the summer and you and your boyfriend make time to go to the beach. You take off your coverup, and suddenly your boyfriend can't look away from you.
Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi
Requests: OPEN
💙 Isagi Yoichi
When you take off your cover-up:
You’re standing near the cooler talking about which drink you want when you casually pull your cover-up over your head. Just a towel and a breath of wind, and suddenly you’re standing there in the kind of swimsuit that truly has him at a loss for words. Isagi looks up mid-sentence… and forgets what he was going to say all together. His mouth stays half open. A water bottle slips from his hand and thuds softly into the sand.
You turn around. “You okay?”
He blinks. Slowly. Then swallows hard.
“Y-Yeah,” he says. But his voice cracks, and his face goes red.
“I mean, yeah, I just—uh. You look really… really good.”
You stare for a moment before a laugh escapes your lips, already walking toward the umbrella like it’s nothing. He’s frozen in place, replaying the image in his head. You in a swimsuit? That swimsuit? He was not expecting.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You flop down on your towel and undo your bikini top like it’s no big deal.
“Can you get my back?” you ask, chin in your arms.
“Wha—now?”
You tilt your head. “Yeah, now. It’s the sunniest part of the day.”
He hesitates like he’s preparing for a high-stakes penalty kick.
Then finally kneels next to you, unscrews the bottle, and gently squirts some into his hand. Way too much btw.
You don’t say anything. You’re just waiting.
He starts rubbing it in, and it’s barely a touch. His hands are soft, hesitant, staying high up on your shoulders and only daring to smooth along your back when you exhale a little laugh.
“Relax,” you tease. "I'm not that fragile."
He mutters something under his breath. Quiet. Almost too soft to hear.
“T-That’s not what I’m worried about…”
When he ties your top back up, his hands fumble with the knot. You can feel his fingers shaking.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re waist-deep, hair wet, laughing as you splash him.
He’s smiling, until his eyes shift over your shoulder. Two guys standing farther down the shore. Staring. His expression changes instantly. He moves closer. One arm around your waist. Then the other. Pulls you back into him, your back against his chest.
You blink. “Yoichi?”
He doesn’t answer. Just rests his chin on your shoulder like he’s relaxing, but he’s definitely watching. When one guy won’t stop looking, Isagi narrows his eyes and mouths something that makes the guy look away real quick.
When you take off your cover-up:
He sees it happen out of the corner of his eye, just a quick movement as you pull the fabric off your shoulders. He turns his head without thinking, then stops. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react right away. Just goes quiet. You glance over, and he’s standing there with a hand on his hip, blinking slowly, mouth pressed in a tight line.
“…What?” you ask, smirking.
“Nothing,” he says. His voice is calm, but his ears are pink.
“You look good.” He says bluntly.
He clears his throat, looks off toward the water, and pretends he’s totally unfazed. But when you walk past him to grab sunscreen, he definitely takes another look.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out on your towel and untie your top like it’s normal, and for you, it is. But for him? He hesitates for a second when you hand him the bottle.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He doesn’t answer. Just kneels beside you, pours a little lotion into his hand, and starts rubbing it in. His hands are warm. Careful. But not shy. He keeps his touch steady as well as focused, and quiet.
You glance back and see the small crease between his brows.
“Are you concentrating?”
He exhales. “Trying not to mess it up.”
When he finishes, he ties the top back without making a show of it. Doesn’t say anything extra. But you catch him stealing a look at your shoulder as you sit up, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s keeping something to himself.
In the water, when guys start staring:
At first, he doesn’t notice. He’s busy watching the waves, wiping water from his eyes, squeezing water out of his hair. But when he does catch one guy looking a little too long, and then another...He doesn’t say anything, just swims closer. His hand settles lightly on your waist. Then he moves behind you, stays close, almost casual.
You raise an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
He nods.
“Yeah. Just staying close.”
Another guy looks again. Chigiri meets his eyes once, and doesn’t look away until the guy does. You smile, nudging his foot underwater.
“You’re not subtle.”
He glances up once. Then again. Slower the second time. You look over and catch the crease in his brow. The subtle sigh through his nose.
“That’s not the one you said you were bringing.”
You shrug. “Changed my mind.”
He looks away fast. Shakes his head.
“Tch. You could’ve said something.”
You walk past him, and he mutters something under his breath, too quiet to catch. But his ears are red, and he won’t look at you directly for a full minute.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down on your towel, reach behind your neck, and untie your top without warning.
“Can you do my back?”
He sits up fast.
“Y/N, what the hell are you doing? We’re in public.”
You just glance over your shoulder. “I’m laying on my stomach. No one can see anything.”
“That’s not the point.”
He looks around like someone’s already staring, then shifts to kneel beside you, blocking the view out of instinct. You hand him the sunscreen. He takes it, muttering under his breath.
“I swear to god…”
Still, he starts rubbing it in. Quiet. Focused. His touch is a little rushed at first, like he wants this over fast, but then slows down when you relax.
You peek back at him. “You’re doing a lot for someone who just complained.”
“Yeah, well,” he mutters. “Don’t untie your top in public next time.”
When he finishes, he ties it back tight. No lingering. No teasing. Just a quick knot and then he’s tossing your towel higher over your shoulders like he’s shielding you from the world. You roll your eyes, smiling into your arms. He sits beside you, arms crossed. Still annoyed. Still red.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re laughing, relaxed, floating near him and he’s too busy watching the shore. He sees it happen. One guy. Then another. Next thing you know, Rin’s behind you. Hands on your hips. Calm grip, firm enough to make a point.
You turn your head. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” He glances at the guy again. “You’re fine right here.”
Another look. A longer one. Rin mouths something, low, short, and not even a little friendly.
You laugh under your breath. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No,” he says flatly. Then squeezes your waist just a little tighter.
He’s mid-frisbee throw when he glances over, just in time to catch you slipping the cover-up off your shoulders. The disc falls straight to the sand. He stares for a second too long. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open.
“Whoa.”
You turn around. “What?”
He grins, trying to play it cool, but the flush on his face says otherwise.
“You didn’t say it was that kind of swimsuit.”
You smirk. “Does it matter?”
“No, not at all~” he says, grabbing the frisbee without breaking eye contact, still smiling and eying you down.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down, untie your top, and hand him the bottle with a casual, “Get my back?”
He blinks. Tilts his head like he didn’t hear you right.
“…Who, me?”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay,” he grins, taking the bottle.
He kneels beside you, rubs the sunscreen into his palms, and gets to work. His touch is steady but light, not awkward, just careful. You can tell he’s being respectful, even if he keeps sneaking little glances at your expression like he’s waiting for you to call him out.
Once he’s done, he ties your top back with a gentle tug and sits back with a little nod of approval.
“Nice teamwork,” he says, brushing sand off his legs. “Next time, I get the towel spot though.”
You just smile and nudge his foot. He bumps yours right back.
In the water, when guys start staring:
At first, he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy splashing you, making dumb faces. But then he sees one guy looking for a little too long. He swims behind you fast, hands on your hips, grinning against your ear. You laugh, trying to shake him off, but he just tightens his grip. Then he looks right past you, catches the guy’s eye, and gives him the kind of smile that doesn’t look very friendly. Still soft, but sharp enough to mean something.
He’s setting up your beach chairs when he hears the soft rustle behind him. Turns around, and stops. You’re standing there, casual as ever, now in just your swimsuit. He blinks. Then quickly looks away like he didn’t just stare.
You tilt your head. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
But his voice is tight, and he’s suddenly a little too focused on adjusting the umbrella. You walk past him toward the towel and he glances again, just once. His ears are pink. His hands go straight into his pockets. He clears his throat.
“You look… really good.”
You look over as a smile appears on your lips.
"Thank you baby."
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out and untie your top, tossing him the bottle like you’ve done this a hundred times.
“Can you do my back?”
He catches it awkwardly.
“Right now?”
You nod. He’s already kneeling beside you before you can say anything else, trying his best to act normal. He squirts the sunscreen into his hand and rubs it in gently, quiet, calm, and way more careful than usual. You can feel him holding his breath a little.
“You okay back there?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Just… being careful.”
He finishes and ties your top back with a firm tug, not letting himself say anything else. His hands linger for a second longer than needed, then he sits back, wiping his palms off.
In the water, when guys start staring:
He notices fast. You’re laughing, arms out in the waves, and he’s standing nearby until he sees a guy across the water very clearly not watching the tide. He doesn’t say anything. Just moves next to you. An arm slips around your waist. Then both. Pulls you in gently.
You blink. “Something wrong?”
“Nope,” he says, staring straight ahead. “Just stay close.”
He’s fixing the speaker, already relaxing with his sunglasses on when you call his name and toss your cover-up aside. He turns. Pauses. Smiles, slow and obvious.
“Well damn,” he says, eyes flicking up and down. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
You roll your eyes and keep walking, but he’s still looking with a giant grin, hands on his hips now, head tilted slightly.
“You wore that on purpose, huh?”
You throw him a grin over your shoulder. He just laughs and shakes his head. “Unreal.”
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out, untie your top, and hand him the bottle.
“Help me out?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you trust me with this?”
“You gonna mess it up?”
“No. I’m gonna take my time.”
He kneels beside you, warms the sunscreen in his hands, and smooths it over your back with practiced ease. His fingers glide slow, not inappropriate, just confident. Like he knows what he’s doing and knows you know it, too. When he finishes, he ties your top without rushing, then leans down to whisper near your ear:
“Let me know if you ever want more help"
He teased before standing up and dusting the sand off his knees, his sunglasses still on his face. You scoff and swat at him, and he just laughs, smug, satisfied.
In the water, when guys start staring:
He’s got one arm around your waist already, pulling you in after a wave when his gaze flicks toward the shore. He sees it. That guy. Now because he has his sunglasses on, the pervert staring at you had yet to notice that Reo was staring daggers into him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just shifts his stance, hand firm on your hip now.
You glance up. “What’s wrong?”
He nods toward the guy. “He’s been staring for a looong time." He said it playfully, but his gaze was still on the man, his body more stiff.
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re mad?"
Reo leans in, his voice low, his sunglasses falling down on his nose just enough so that you could see his eyes.
“I’ll buy the whole beach if it means they stop looking.”
You laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Rich and ridiculous,” he says, tugging you closer.
He’s laying flat under the umbrella, half-asleep, arm over his eyes.
Then you say, “Hey, toss me that towel?”
He lifts his head, and sees you standing there in your swimsuit. He blinks once. Then again.
“…Huh?”
You laugh. “What?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares for a second longer than normal, then groans and throws the towel without aiming. It lands half on your foot.
“You said it was that one pink swimsuit." He mumbles.
You shrug. “It is.”
He sits up slowly, one hand still shielding his eyes.
“It’s not. " He groans staring at you in your blue two-piece,
"You look… crazy good. Not fair.”
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down on your towel, untie your top, and roll the bottle over to him.
“Can you get my back?”
He sits up straighter. “Ugh… you sure?”
“You’re already awake.”
“Barely.”
Still, he drags himself over, sits beside you, and squirts the sunscreen into his palms. His touch is lazy but gentle, slow and careful, like he’s focusing way harder than he wants to admit.
“You’re so warm,” you mumble.
He mutters back, “Yeah, ’cause you’re stressing me out.”
When he finishes, he ties your top back with a loose, almost sleepy knot. Then flops onto his own towel face-down like he just ran a marathon.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re waist-deep, smiling, and floating next to him when he glances toward the beach and sees someone watching. He doesn’t say anything. Just moves behind you and places both hands lightly on your hips.
You turn your head. “What are you doing?”
“Gettin’ comfortable,” he mutters. But his eyes flick back to the guy, and they don’t look tired anymore.
When the guy doesn’t stop, Nagi lets out a sigh. Tightens his grip.
“Tell me when I can punch someone.”
You laugh. “You’re not punching anyone.”
“Then let me stand here.”
He stays locked on you like an anchor the rest of the swim.
HAIII not a request but i wanted to say i love your work so much omg. i got giddy seeing the victoria’s secret one cause ir was posted on my bday (for me) so yayay :D anyway hope you did good on finals
You are so very sweet omg ☹️❤️ I’m glad I could make your birthday a little more special and happy late birthday! These little comments truly make my day. Thank you ❤️
Going shopping in Victoria's Secret with your boyfriend.
You’re out shopping with your boyfriend when you suddenly decide you need to stop by Victoria’s Secret. No warning. No hesitation. You grab his hand and drag him in. Now he’s surrounded by lace, bras, and mannequins in underwear and he’s just trying to keep it together.
Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou Kaiser, Niko, Sae,
Content Warning: light suggestive themes
📝 Requests: OPEN
🎀 Alexis Ness
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Follows you without question, even if he’s definitely overthinking every step. He glances at the store sign, then back at you.
“We're going here?"
You say yes. He nods. Quiet. Blushing already.
What he does while you shop:
Sticks close but doesn’t hover. He’s trying to act normal, fidgeting slightly with his hands behind his back, eyes on anything but the lace and satin surrounding him. Looks down. Looks at you. Looks away.
You catch him fidgeting with his sleeve while he waits for you to browse. He’s definitely trying.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. “Thoughts?”
His face goes red.
“I—um—if you like it, then yeah.”
He gives a fast nod and looks away, covering his mouth with one hand like he’s trying not to stare. But later, when you're holding two options and trying to decide, he surprises you. Leans in just a little, voice low.
“…Whichever one you wear first,” he says, still red but smiling now, “just don’t expect me to focus on anything else.”
Then he looks away again, all innocent, like he didn’t just say that.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Doesn’t even blink. Just follows you in with that usual soft look on his face, hands in his pockets, voice easy.
“Need a new one? Alright, darlin’. Let’s go.”
He’s not making a scene. Not acting awkward. But the second he realizes where he is, like really thinks about it. The music, the lace, the pink lighting, the thongs with gemstones on them. He clears his throat and stays real close to you.
What he does while you shop:
Stays quiet. Patient. Watches you browse while pretending he’s not surrounded by mannequins in lingerie.
If you glance back at him, he gives you a half smile and says, “Take your time.” But he’s blushing. You can see it. Just a little.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up a soft blue set. “What do you think?”
He blinks once. Then again.
“Uhh… yeah. That’s real pretty.”
You tilt your head. “On me, or in general?”
He laughs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
“On you. No question.”
You grab a second option. Lace, low cut.
He swallows. Looks. Looks again. And says
“Get that one and I’m gonna need a minute." He says playfully.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Grins. Immediately.
“Hell yeah,” He says, already walking faster than you. “Bout damn time."
He’s looking around like hes in a candy store, except it’s satin, lace, and dim lighting. Zero shame.
What he does while you shop:
Follows you like it’s a game. Touches hangers. Picks up random pieces and holds them up to you without even checking the size.
“This one’s cute. This one’s fun. Though look at this one~" He says with a light whistle. He says all of that out loud by the way. Doesn’t whisper. Doesn’t care.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. “Do you like this one?”
He shrugs, eyes low, grinning like the devil.
“I don’t care what you get, babe.”
Steps closer. Voice low.
“As long as I’m the one takin’ it off.”
You give him a look. He winks. And you already know he’s dead serious. He tries to follow you into the fitting room. He doesn’t carry the bag on the way out. He just keeps saying,
“You gonna show me later, right?”
Loud enough for everyone in a 10 foot radius to hear.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Groans the second he sees the sign.
“Seriously?”
Rolls his eyes. Follows you in anyway. Loud sigh. Hands shoved in his coat pockets. He doesn’t like the lighting. Doesn’t like the music. Doesn’t like that you’re making him stand next to mannequins in thongs. But he’s here. And now that he’s here, he’s involved.
What he does while you shop:
Leans against a display, acting like he doesn’t care but watching everything.
You pick something up? He’s already shaking his head.
“That color’s boring. Try this one.”
Points to something completely different. Way bolder. Way him.
Doesn’t touch anything. Just stands there giving commentary like a high end fashion judge.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You: “I really like this one.”
Him: “It’s fine.”
You: “You don’t like it?”
Him: shrugs “You’re hot. You’ll look good in anything. But this—”
He holds up something he picked, black, strappy, probably lacy.
“—looks better.”
You try to push back. He just gives you that look. You end up buying both. Maybe three. He doesn’t blink when the total shows up. Just pays. All of it. Doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t say you’re welcome. Just hands you the bag and whispers,
“You’re wearing my pick first.”
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Tense. Shoulders up. Jaw set. He walks in behind you like he’s entering somewhere he shouldn't be. Doesn’t say much. Just mutters, “Alright…” under his breath and stays close. He looks like he's almost bored. Like this isn’t that serious. But watching everything.
What he does while you shop:
Keeps his distance at first. Hangs back. Stares at his shoes. But every time you glance at him, he looks up. You hold something up? His eyes twitch like he’s trying not to react.
You ask, “Do you like this one?” He shrugs.
But then—
You say, “I really want your opinion.”
And his eyes widen.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
He blinks. Freezes. Realizes you’re serious. And then he actually pays attention instead of looking away in embarrassment. Still flustered. Still blushing. But now he’s studying the material like it’s game footage.
“This one… uhm…”
He clears his throat. Rubs his neck. Avoids your eyes.
“I-I mean, the cut’s good. That strap thing matches the other—like it—uh—flows.”
He’s explaining in full detail now. Trying his best to sound confident while stuttering through every word.
“You should get that one. And the other one. T-They go together.”
You smile. He looks away. Red all the way to his ears.
He walks out with your bag in one hand and his sanity barely there anymore.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Unbothered. Completely. He doesn’t blink at the sign, doesn’t question where you’re going, just follows you in with a blank expression and zero urgency. You’re the one shopping. He’s just… here.
What he does while you shop:
Leans against the nearest wall. Scrolls through his phone once. Doesn’t look up much. You’d think he’s not paying attention until someone walks too close to you and he lifts his eyes fast enough to make them back off. He’s calm. Quiet. Watching without looking like he is.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. Light. Lacy.
He looks for about 2 seconds. Not that he didn't care. he just analyzed it that quick.
“Get that one.”
You raise a brow. “You sure?”
His eyes don’t move.
“You asked. That one’s good.”
Plain. Simple. Final. You try on a second one, just to tease. He glances. Then back at his phone.
“The first one.”
No blushing. No stuttering. But he’s paying attention.
Pays for it without a word. Carries the bag without being asked. On the way out, he leans in and says,
“If you’re wearing that later, don’t bother making plans.”
Going shopping in Victoria's Secret with your boyfriend.
You’re out shopping with your boyfriend when you suddenly decide you need to stop by Victoria’s Secret. No warning. No hesitation. You grab his hand and drag him in. Now he’s surrounded by lace, bras, and mannequins in underwear and he’s just trying to keep it together.
Part 2: Barou, Yukimiya, Aiku, Gagamaru, Otoya, and Karasu
Content Warning: light suggestive themes
📝 Requests: OPEN
🦁 Barou Shoei
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Refuses. At first. Fully stops outside the door and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.
“Why the hell would I go in there?”
You roll your eyes
“Because you’re my boyfriend,” and start walking anyway.
He follows. Grumbling the whole time. Doesn’t make eye contact with a single person. Stiff as hell.
“Get your bra and let’s leave.”
What he does while you shop:
Stands with his arms crossed, jaw tight, glaring at a shelf full of pink lace like it personally insulted him. Keeps whispering, 'Tch. What’s the point of this?' But he hasn’t blinked since you walked away. Keeps looking at you. Watching how you touch things. Narrowing his eyes when someone else walks by too close.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. “This one?”
He scoffs. Looks away. Then looks back. Then back again.
“…Yeah,” He mutters. “Get it.”
You grin. “What was that?”
He clears his throat. Louder this time:
“Yeah. That one.”
His arms are still crossed. His ears are red. You grab a second option. He doesn’t argue.
He’ll pretend to hate it, but he’ll carry your bag on the way out like it’s not full of lace.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t hesitate. Just walks in with you like it’s any other store.
“You want a new one?” He says, brushing your hand gently with his thumb. “Alright. Let’s find one you love.”
His tone is soft. Steady. No embarrassment, no nerves. He’s been around beauty his whole life, but you’re the only thing he’s focused on right now.
What he does while you shop:
Stays beside you, hands relaxed in his coat pockets, occasionally glancing over your shoulder as you flip through hangers.
If you pause in front of something, he notices.
“You like that one?” he asks, voice quiet.
You nod.
He just says, “Okay,” and takes it gently from the rack to carry for you. No fuss. No attention drawing. He’s just making sure you don’t have to think too hard.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up a soft blush colored set. “Thoughts?”
He doesn’t look away from you. Just gives a small, warm smile.
“If you like it, I like it.”
You laugh. “You sure I’m not overdoing it?”
He shifts the growing pile in his arm, leans in a little.
“You want that one, babe?”
You nod.
“Okay.”
Simple. Final. No hesitation. By the end of the trip, he’s the one reminding you to get the matching robe.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Smirks.
“You sure you wanna go in there?" He teases.
But he’s already walking through the doors behind you, one hand in his pocket, the other resting casually on your lower back. He doesn’t look nervous. He looks interested.
What he does while you shop:
Leans on displays like he owns them. Gives opinions you didn’t ask for. Winks at you in the mirror. Definitely says something like, “That one looks like trouble. I like it.” Picks up a silk robe just to run his fingers over it, then glances at you like, "You’d ruin this, y’know.”
He’s not being gross. He’s being Aiku. Confident, playful, and watching you like you’re the best thing in the store.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up something soft, simple. “What about this one?”
He grins. Tilts his head.
“Mmm. Cute. But what about that one—”
Points to something way bolder. Smirking.
“Too much?”
You shake your head. “You’d get arrested if I wore that out.”
He shrugs. “Then we stay in.”
Still ends up paying for all of it. Still makes a comment under his breath about modeling it for him later. Still opens the car door for you like a gentleman. Just a very dangerous one.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
“Victoria’s what?”
You say, “Come on, I need a new bra,” and he follows without another word. No questions. Just calm curiosity. Steps inside, takes one look around… Freezes.
“Oh.”
Now he gets it.
Eyes widen just a little. He clears his throat and pushes his hair back, already trying to act like he’s not flustered yet curious.
What he does while you shop:
Quiet. Keeps a small distance but always in view. Watching you. Paying attention. If you look back at him, he gives you a small nod.
If you ask, “You okay?”
He just goes, “Yeah.” Soft. Steady. Blushing.
He doesn’t know where to look, but he’s still looking at you.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. Something light and strappy.
“Too much?” you ask.
He blinks. Looks at it. Then at you. Then quickly back down.
“…No,” he mumbles. “It’s nice.”
You try another one. His ears go red.
You ask again, “This one?”
He just nods. Doesn’t say yes or no. Just… nods. A little slower. A little pinker. You’re doing it on purpose now. And he knows it. But he’s not complaining.
Hands you the bag on the way out like it weighs 40 pounds. Doesn’t say a word. Just walks a little closer than usual.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Already smiling. Already way too comfortable.
“Finally,” Ge grins, swinging the door open for you. He walks in like it’s a party. Hands in his jacket pockets. Eyes casually skimming the shelves like he’s not completely focused on you.
What he does while you shop:
Hypes you up. Loudly. Playfully. Constantly.
“Babe, hold that one up again, yeah that one.”
“Wait— turn this way. Yeah go ahead and get that."
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up a deep red set. “Too much?”
He smirks, tilts his head. “Not enough.”
You laugh. “Be serious.”
“I am.”
Then you show him a softer one, light pink, delicate lace. He softens. Just a little.
“That’s real pretty.” His voice drops slightly. “You should get that too.”
You’re expecting him to keep teasing, but instead he just leans in and says,
“Gonna look amazing on you. Promise.”
By the time you’re paying, you’re flustered.
He’s smug. Hands in pockets. Holding the bag and giving you that look like,
“We’re going home after this, right?”
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Zero hesitation. Just follows you inside with his hands in his pockets and a small grin on his face.
“Victoria’s Secret? Alright.”
Like he’s seen it all before, and now he’s just excited to see you in it. He’s not nervous. Not flustered. Not even stiff.
What he does while you shop:
Leans against a display like he belongs there. Watching you flip through hangers. Lowkey smirking every time you hold something up.
Definitely throws out a quiet,
“Damn, that one babe,”
Says it like he’s commenting on the weather. Doesn’t even raise his voice.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You: “Do you like this one?”
Him: smirks “Yeah. A lot.”
You: “Should I get it?”
Him: “Get two.”
You pull a lacy black one off the rack. He whistles under his breath.
“Hot. I love it.”
He flirts. He lingers. He gives subtle glances that say more than words ever could. And the best part?
He’s still the one carrying the bag on the way out, hand on your lower back like you’re already his whole world.
Going shopping in Victoria's Secret with your boyfriend.
You’re out shopping with your boyfriend when you suddenly decide you need to stop by Victoria’s Secret. No warning. No hesitation. You grab his hand and drag him in. Now he’s surrounded by lace, bras, and mannequins in underwear and he’s just trying to keep it together.
Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi
Content Warning: light suggestive themes
📝 Requests: OPEN
💙 Isagi Yoichi
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
He panics. Not dramatically, but it’s all over his face.
You tug his hand and say “I need a new bra,” before walking straight through the glass doors without a second thought. He hesitates for half a second before following you in, kinda like a loyal puppy who’s just realized he’s in unfamiliar territory.
“You seriously—? W-We’re going in here?”
The lighting is pink. The mannequins are bold. The displays are full of lace. And he truly didn't know where to look.
What he does while you shop:
Stands like a statue next to a table full of folded thongs, trying so hard not to look like a creep. He’s checking his phone, but not actually doing anything on it... Just unlocking and relocking the screen like that’s going to get him through this. His eyes dart around the store like he's expecting to get tackled at any second. He pretends to be really interested in a bottle of body mist just so he has something to focus on.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
The second you hold something up and ask, “What about this one?” — he deadass short circuits.
His face goes bright red. His hands come up like he’s surrendering.
“Y-Yeah. Cute. You’d look good in… "
He trails off, looking away.
"I mean, it’s cute.”
He can’t look at it too long or he’ll combust. He says “cute” four times in a row and you have to hold back a laugh. Deep down? He’s honored you’re even asking. But he’s absolutely not surviving this trip.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Doesn’t flinch. Walks right in behind you with his hands in his pockets like it’s just another store. He’s usual calm expression on his face, maybe even a little smirk.
“Need a new bra? Fine. Let’s go.”
Like he’s doing you the favor by walking in. Like he’s totally used to this.
He is not
What he does while you shop:
Starts off casual. Leans against the wall. Nods like he’s analyzing the inventory. Occasionally raises a brow at a bright pink lace set like he has opinions. Definitely says something like, “That’s not even functional,” under his breath. But the longer you browse, the more he shifts. His arms cross tighter. His mouth stops moving. His posture gets tenser. His confidence starts cracking slowly. Quietly.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You turn around and hold up a set. It's a beautiful shade of red, almost the same shade as his hair.
“Do you like this one?”
His mouth opens. Closes. His ears flush.
“Uh— yeah. I mean… I guess. It’s fine.”
You hold up another, swaying your hips to the side, like you were posing.
“Or this?”
Now his cheeks and ears turning pink.
“Sure. I mean—whatever makes you comfortable.”
You don’t say anything, but you see it. This man is overheating in real time. By the time you’re headed to the register, he’s looking everywhere except at you, arms crossed, jaw tight, absolutely not making eye contact with any of the mannequins.
Still says, “You’ll look good in whatever,” under his breath on the way out. And he means it.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Doesn’t argue, but he lets out a huge sigh and rolls his eyes before staring at the storefront like it personally offended him. You tug his hand and say, “Come on,” and he follows. Reluctantly. Silently.
“...Seriously?” He says it under his breath, but you hear it.
The moment the doors close behind him, he looks like he wants to vanish. His eyes flick away from everything. His jaw’s tight. His hands are in his pockets and he’s not letting them out.
What he does while you shop:
Stands in the most boring, neutral spot he can find, right next to the scent display or behind a pillar like he’s hoping the store forgets he exists. Avoids eye contact with everyone. Refuses to look at anything made of lace. Keeps his head slightly down but glances at you from the corner of his eye like he’s making sure no one else is looking at you either. And after you've shown him a couple bras, get his opinion, you walk off to look at more. But Rin He turns away, covers the bottom half of his face with his hand, and exhales hard.
His brows are furrowed. His ears are red. His whole face is fighting itself.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up something soft and strappy. “What about this one?”
He doesn’t look.
“I don’t care. Pick whatever.”
You raise an eyebrow before frowning.
“You’re not even looking.”
He glances. Regrets it instantly.
By the third one, he’s not even pretending to play it cool.
He’s bright red, mouth hidden behind his hand again, muttering under his breath. But when you check out, he still carries the bag. And when you walk past the window, he never looks back. Not once.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
He loves it. Doesn't hesitate. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even ask where you’re going! Just follows you inside like a golden retriever on a mission.
“Oooohhh we’re goin’ in here? Fun~”
He’s already grinning. Already looking around. You’re supposed to be shopping for yourself, but somehow he's also shopping for you.
What he does while you shop:
He’s touching everything. Picks up a feathered robe and his eyes light up way more than they should.
“This feels insane. I want one.” Points at a sparkly bra: “You’d look hot in that.”
Waves at a mannequin. You don’t know why. He’s just being Bachira. He disappears for five minutes and comes back with three items you absolutely didn’t ask for, saying,
“Okay hear me out— try this one on just for fun.” With the most evil smirk on his lips
How he handles you picking stuff out:
He’s fully involved. You hold something up? “Cuuute. Try on that blue one next." Something spicier? Stares, just stares. Like his mind is wandering places it shouldn't before grinning and nodding his head with a thumbs up. He’s not embarrassed. He’s not shy. He’s not even whispering.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Stiffens instantly. Doesn’t stop you, doesn’t argue, just follows you inside with the kind of face that says he’s concentrating on not looking weird. His posture goes straight. His hands go in his pockets. And his eyes go anywhere but the walls.
“Uh… okay. Cool. You need a new one we will get you a new one."
What he does while you shop:
Stands politely off to the side, near the sports bras because they feel the least scandalous. If we are being for real he looks like he’s waiting for a bus. Doesn’t touch anything. Doesn’t move much. Just nods when you show him something and says “Yeah,”
Internally? He’s panicking.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up a black lace one. “What about this?”
His eyes widen. He blinks hard.
“Uh… yeah. That’s… that’s good. I mean, if you like it. Looks— looks fine.”
You smirk. Hold up something even bolder.
He blanks.
Covers his mouth. Looks away.
“Y-You’d look good in anything,” He mumbles.
On the way out, you catch him peeking in the bag. Just once.
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t question. Walks in with you like he’s the one who suggested it.
“Oh? You need new stuff? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Hand already in his pocket. Platinum card on deck. He’s smiling, nodding at displays like he’s been here before... Because he has.
He’s already planning a shopping spree and y’all just stepped inside.
What he does while you shop:
Helps. Fully. Picks out colors, sizes, textures. Brings you options.
Says things like, “You need one of everything in this collection. It'd compliment you well."
He’s holding half the store in his arms. He’s asking sales associates for fitting rooms. He’s comparing items like it’s an investment portfolio.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold something up. “What about this one?” He lights up instantly.
“That one’s gorgeous. But grab the red one too— I think it’ll look even better on you.”
You laugh. “Reo, I don’t need all this—”
He leans in a little, voice warm.
“I know. But I want you to have it.”
No teasing. No pressure. Just soft, genuine affection behind the eyes. He likes seeing you happy.
You walk out with three bags and he still says, “That’s it?”
Reaction when you drag him into Victoria’s Secret:
He sighs. Not annoyed, just sleepy.
“Do we have to?”
You say yes. He shrugs and follows you in with zero fight. Hands in his hoodie pocket. Looks like he just woke up.
“Guess I’ll stand somewhere… Man this is a hassle....”
What he does while you shop:
Leans against a wall and barely moves.He’s not embarrassed at first, mostly just bored. Looking at the ceiling. Then at you. Then back at the ceiling. Probably yawns once or twice.
How he handles you picking stuff out:
You hold up something lacy. “Cute, right~?”
He blinks. Eyes wide. Ears turning red. Doesn’t say a word. Just nods. Once. Stiff. You hold up another. He nods again. Face now red. Doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t even blink.
You tilt your head with a smirk. “You okay?”
He nods one more time. Slower. "Yeah.. They look fine."
Completely unresponsive. You’re trying on outfits in the mirror, he’s standing behind you like a statue, no longer looking at you. Maybe a peek now and then.
You get migraines. And the bad kind. The kind that makes your head pound, lights sting, and noise feel like it’s echoing inside your skull. Some days, you can push through. Other days, it knocks you flat. But your boyfriend is there to help, and he always handles it.
Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou, Kaiser, Niko, Sae
📝 Requests: OPEN
🎀 Alexis Ness
When he finds out you get migraines:
He knew what migraines were in theory. Read about them. Knew they hurt. But he didn’t understand them, not really, until it happened to you. You were mid sentence and then suddenly… quiet. Your fingers moved to your temple. Your breathing shifted. And then you went still.
__________
He watched for a second, confused. Then concerned.
“Y/N?” he asked, voice already soft.
You didn’t answer. Just whispered, “S-Sorry it's a migraine...”
And it sunk in. You were in pain, and you weren’t asking for anything. That made his chest hurt. You were the kind of person who looked after others, and now you were trying to ride something out alone. He hated that. He got up immediately. Curtains drawn. Lights off.
He grabbed you the softest towel in the closet and brought it to you. Brought it back with your meds and a water bottle, and placed them gently in your hands. Then he sat next to the couch, arms resting on his knees, glancing at you every now and then. You didn’t say much. Neither did he. Just breathed together in the quiet. Eventually, you reached out, fingers brushing his, and he met you there without a word.
“I wish I could take it for you,” he said quietly.
You didn’t answer. But you didn’t need to.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Ness treats it like something that matters. Because to him, it does. He remembers everything: the timing, the triggers, what helps, what doesn’t. He keeps the space calm, keeps his voice soft, and always asks how he can do better, even if you tell him he’s already doing enough.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He knew migraines were painful but he didn’t know how quietly brutal they were until he saw you get one. You didn’t say anything. Just slowed down. Your voice got softer. Your expression changed.
__________
He thought maybe you were just tired. He leaned in, nudged your arm lightly, smiled.
“Y’alright?”
You didn’t answer. Just shook your head slowly.
“…Is it your head?” He asked, voice already quieter, smooth, low. That soft southern drawl curling at the edges.
You nodded. “Migraine.”
He blinked. And just like that, everything about him shifted.
“Okay,” He said gently. “I got it.”
He moved around the room in near silence — turned off the lights, pulled the curtains, opened the window just a crack for air. He brought back your meds, a cool rag, and a fresh glass of water. You didn’t even have to ask. He sat beside you and placed the rag against your temple with a light touch. His hand hovered there for a second — like he wanted to do more but didn’t want to make it worse. Then he sat back. Close, still, calm.
“You just breathe, darlin’. I’ll handle the rest.”
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Hiori doesn’t rush. He watches, learns, and moves exactly how you need him to. He keeps things quiet, steady, and predictable. He doesn’t push you to talk, but if you do, he listens all the way through. He knows what time to give you meds, which room stays cooler, and how long it usually lasts. You never have to explain things twice. He’s already got it down, and he’s not going anywhere.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He used to think migraines were fake. A lazy excuse. People just being dramatic about a headache. “Drink some water and stop whining,” was something he actually said once.
So when you started going quiet, like really quiet, real quiet he assumed you were just zoning him out. You stopped laughing. Stopped talking. Curled into yourself on the bed.
__________
He raised a brow. “Hey what'cha doing babe?"
Nothing.
He clocked his head to the side, staring right at you. "Come on why ya' ignoring me babe?"
You flinched when he got closer. Pressed your hand to your temple.
“Migraine,” you whispered.
And for the first time in forever, Shidou shut his damn mouth.
“…Shit. Okay,” He muttered, already getting up. “Alright. I got it.”
He moved around the room fast, not loud, just fast. Switched off the lights, yanked the curtains shut, shoved his phone in a drawer. Then he left. Came back with water, your meds, and a bag of frozen peas wrapped in his clean hoodie. Not elegant. Not thought out. Just done.
“Here,” He said, handing it to you without looking you in the eye.
Then he sat down. Real quiet. Hands in his lap, eyes on the wall. Didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. And when you finally started breathing easier, then he looked at you. His jaw clenched.
“..Guess they are real."
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
He takes them seriously now. He'll tease you every now and then but overall takes them seriously. If you even look off, he’s already shutting the whole house down. He gets the meds, keeps people out, and stays next to you without being told. His voice drops when he speaks, all careful, like he’s scared of making it worse.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He didn’t care about migraines. Not even a little. Thought they were dramatic. Overblown. Weak. Deal with it. He’s brushed off his own teammates before with a smug “Get over it.” So when you went quiet mid sentence, he didn’t think much of it. Figured you were bored.
__________
“Seriously?” He said, smirking. “You’re ignoring me now?”
You didn’t look at him. Just pulled your sleeves over your hands, face tense, eyes squeezed shut.
“…Y/N.”
You whispered, “Migraine.”
He stared. His smirk faded.
Then, flatly.
“You’re kidding.”
You didn’t answer. And just like that, Kaiser went into motion. He walked out. No talking. No noise. Just gone. When he came back, the lights were already off. He tossed his phone onto the bed. Set down water. Your meds. A cold rag wrapped in one of his silk shirts because why the hell don’t we own any towels that aren’t scratchy? He didn’t sit close. Didn’t say a word. He just stood there. Arms crossed. Eyes on you.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Kaiser doesn’t joke about it anymore. He takes it seriously. He shuts down noise. Handles lights. Replaces your cheap meds with whatever the best version is. He doesn’t coddle, but he’s always close. Always watching. If someone tries to call, knock, ask for anything? They get ignored. When you’re in pain, the only thing he can control is making sure you don’t go through it alone.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He didn’t think much about migraines before. Not because he thought they were fake, just… never had a reason to care. If someone said they had one, he just assumed they’d sleep it off. Then you got one. You didn’t announce it. You just went quiet, slower responses, eyes down, barely blinking.
__________
He was watching. At first, he thought you were distracted. Then his stomach turned.
“You okay?” He asked.
You barely nodded. “Migraine.”
His chest tightened. He didn’t say anything else. Just got up and left the room. A few minutes passed. Then the lights went off. The curtains closed. He came back with your meds, a glass of water, and a cold rag folded neatly, not rushed, not sloppy. Precise. Quiet. He handed it all to you, then sat down on the floor at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, back straight. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move much. But he didn’t look away from you either. And when he finally spoke, it was barely audible:
“...I should’ve noticed earlier.”
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Niko pays attention. Almost too much. Once he sees what it does to you, he memorizes everything. How you sound, how you move, what you avoid. He handles it quietly: lights off, no talking, everything soft and controlled. He doesn’t comfort with words, he comforts with his precision.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He didn’t think migraines were that serious. He’d heard the word before, sure press conferences, teammates, excuses. To him, it sounded like something people used to avoid effort. But when you shut down, arms folded across your lap, face turned toward the wall… He noticed. You didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask for help. Just sat there. Still. Quiet.
__________
He tilted his head slightly. “Y/N.”
You didn’t move.
“Migraine?” He asked flatly.
You nodded once. Barely. He stood up and left the room. When he came back, the lights were off. His phone was on silent. He set down a glass of water, placed your meds beside it, then draped a cold towel over your shoulder, not rushed, not dramatic. Just… done. Then he sat down at the far edge of the bed. Crossed his arms. Stayed quiet. Watched the space around you like it mattered. Didn’t speak. Didn’t look away. He didn’t ask if you were okay. You weren’t. That was obvious. He wasn’t here to talk. He was here to make sure no one disturbed you.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Sae doesn’t fuss. Doesn’t smother. But he remembers everything. He reacts fast. Dims the lights, shuts the doors. He doesn’t ask how you feel, he just makes it easier to feel less terrible. And if anyone questions it? One look from him is enough to end it. He can’t fix it. He knows that. But if protecting your silence is all he can do, he’ll do it perfectly.
Hey y’all! So turns out I myself get migraines! Not just migraines though I get a kind called an ocular migraine. Basically means my vision acts funny then I get a migraine. Scared the shit out of me the first time. I completely thought I was gonna have a whole stroke 💀 So y’know, if I ghost for a few days that’s most likely why or school. Thank y’all for the support <3
You get migraines. And the bad kind. The kind that makes your head pound, lights sting, and noise feel like it’s echoing inside your skull. Some days, you can push through. Other days, it knocks you flat. But your boyfriend is there to help, and he always handles it.
Part 2: Barou, Yukimiya, Aiku, Gagamaru, Otoya, and Karasu
📝 Requests: OPEN
🦁 Barou Shoei
When he finds out you get migraines:
He always thought migraines were just… headaches. Something people exaggerated to get out of things. Loud noise? Bright lights? Deal with it. He never really got it, not until he saw it happen to you. You weren’t complaining or saying much, just sitting there, head down, rubbing your temples. He figured you were in a mood, maybe tired or just needing space. But when he dropped his gym bag and you visibly flinched at the sound, something shifted. He looked at you, really looked.
__________
He didn’t know what to do. Just stood there for a second, jaw tight, trying to figure out if he should call someone or what.
“…Is this a migraine,” he asked quietly.
You nodded. He clicked his tongue and walked out of the room. You stayed still, barely opening your eyes. A minute passed. Then the lights went off. Curtains were drawn. The door creaked open again, quieter this time. He came back holding a cold bottle of water in one hand, and your meds in the other.
“Take these,” he said, setting them in front of you. Not demanding. Just firm. Focused. You took them without speaking. He didn’t ask for a thank you. Then he grabbed a blanket, tossed it over your shoulders, and sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, arms resting on his knees. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t move. Didn’t check his phone. Just stayed. Until you were okay.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Barou doesn’t say much, but he pays attention. After that first time, he doesn’t play around with it. If you say your head hurts, everything stops. Lights off, room quiet, no questions. He gets your meds, makes sure you're warm, and stations himself somewhere nearby — close enough to help, far enough not to crowd you. If anyone tries to interrupt, he shuts it down instantly. You don’t need to explain. He just handles it. Quietly. Completely.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He’d heard of migraines before, mostly in a medical sense. He knew the symptoms, knew what they looked like on paper. But he never really got it. Not until you were sitting at the edge of the bed, sunglasses on inside, shoulders drawn in like you were trying to fold into yourself.
__________
At first, he thought something happened. Maybe someone said something to you, maybe it was stress. He started asking questions, gentle, but rapid.
Then you mumbled, “Migraine.”
He stopped. His whole expression shifted.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve got it.”
He didn’t ask what you needed. He asked where it was, your meds, your cold compress, the darkest room. He moved fast. Not in panic, but with purpose. Ten minutes later, the lights were off, the curtains drawn, and a cold rag pressed carefully to your temple. He didn’t touch you more than necessary, just enough to help.
“Anything else?” he asked softly.
You shook your head, eyes closed. He nodded, then sat nearby, scrolling silently through his phone on dim mode, volume off, alerts silenced. Every few minutes, he checked the clock. Watched you. Breathed slower on purpose — so maybe you would too.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Yukimiya handles it like it’s personal. He learns what triggers them, keeps track of how often they happen, and makes sure everything you need is stocked and ready. He doesn’t coddle, but he doesn’t leave you alone either. He sits quietly, handles anything outside your space, and makes sure no one interrupts. It’s one of the few times he drops the polished image and just shows up — fully present, and completely yours.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He’d heard of migraines. Knew they were bad. But in the back of his mind, he still kind of filed them under “just rest and hydrate” problems. Then he came home and found you in the bedroom, hoodie over your head, curtains half-drawn, face turned into the pillow like the light hurt.
__________
He stepped inside casually. “Babe?”
You didn’t respond. Just gave a half-nod and covered your ears. His whole mood changed. He stood there for a second, then backed out of the room. Quiet. Next time he walked in, the lights were off. He tossed your meds and a water bottle on the nightstand, pulled the blanket over you, and crouched next to the bed.
“You need anything else?”
You shook your head slowly.
“Alright,” he said, voice low now. “Then I’m not going anywhere.”
He sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, pulled his hoodie over his head, and leaned back against the bedframe. You felt his hand brush yours under the blanket a few minutes later — barely there, just enough to let you know he was still there.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Aiku learns fast. He won’t say it out loud, but your pain stresses him out, so he handles it. Quietly. The moment you mention a migraine, he dims the room, clears out distractions, and makes sure you’ve got everything you need. He doesn't hover, but he won't leave either. He stays nearby, lets you rest, and keeps everything calm. Protective in his own way — but make no mistake, he's serious about it now.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He never thought much about migraines. Didn't doubt they were real, he just didn’t know what they looked like. He’d never seen someone actually have one. Then he came home and found you sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the tub, lights off, hand pressed to the side of your face. Not crying. Not saying anything. Just still. He stood in the doorway, blinking, confused for a second.
__________
“…You okay?”
You barely lifted your head. “Migraine.”
He nodded once, quiet. Then turned around and left. You didn’t hear him for a bit. No footsteps. Just silence. Then he came back with a cold rag, water, and the bottle of meds from the kitchen drawer. He helped you up, slow and careful, and walked you to the bedroom in near silence. He didn’t say much. Just closed the blinds, handed you what you needed, and laid down on top of the covers next to you — arm behind his head, eyes on the ceiling. His other hand rested near yours. Not touching — just there. He stayed like that all night.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Gagamaru doesn’t talk a lot, but he’s observant. Now that he knows what your migraines look like, he picks up on the signs quickly. He shuts off the lights, grabs what you need, and quietly gets you somewhere comfortable. He doesn’t crowd or question — he just stays close, calm, and steady. You don’t have to explain. You don’t even have to ask.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He didn’t think migraines were that serious. He’d heard people talk about them, dramatic, miserable, curled up in bed, and kind of assumed they were exaggerating. A bad headache, maybe. Nothing more. So when you went quiet, stopped texting back, and barely looked up when he walked in, he assumed you were mad at him.
__________
“You ignoring me?”
No answer.
He stepped closer. “Okay, seriously… what’d I do?”
Still nothing.
Then he saw your hand twitch against your forehead. And how tight your shoulders were.
“…Wait,” he muttered. “Is this one of those migraine things?”
You gave the smallest nod. Everything about him changed in a second. He backed out of the room. Quiet this time. No muttering. No commentary. Came back with a glass of water, your meds, and an ice pack from the freezer wrapped in a towel.
“Here,” he said, softer than usual.
You took them without opening your eyes. He didn’t ask anything else. Just sat beside the bed, hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees, head down like he was thinking too hard. He didn’t even check his phone. Didn’t leave the room. Just stayed. Low, quiet, and still.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Otoya isn’t clueless, he just didn’t understand how bad it really was until he saw it up close. Now? He takes it seriously. He won’t let anyone mess with the lights or make noise, and he shuts things down fast when you say the word. He doesn’t hover, but he stays close, occasionally checking in with a soft, “You need anything?” When you’re in pain, the charm’s gone, and what’s left is real care.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He used to think migraines were just glorified headaches — something people used as an excuse to skip class or avoid plans. He didn’t question it out loud, but he didn’t take them seriously either. Then one night, you stopped talking mid-sentence and leaned into the arm of the couch, eyes shut tight. Your fingers were pressed against your forehead, breathing shallow. He assumed you were tired. Then irritated. Then he thought, Okay... did I say something wrong? When you didn’t respond to your name the second time, he knew something was off.
__________
“…Y/N?”
You barely moved your lips. “Migraine.”
And that was it. He was up. He got quiet. Fast. No teasing. No comments. No questions. He shut the curtains, turned off the lights, and walked out of the room without saying where he was going. You didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. When he came back, he had water, your meds, and a cold rag. He handed them to you without a word, then sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone, dimmed to the lowest setting, no sound, no buzz. Every few minutes, his eyes flicked over to you. Subtle. Checking. But he didn’t move. Didn’t say anything else. He just watched.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Karasu is observant by nature — and now that he knows how migraines affect you, he catches it early every time. He notices your posture, your expression, the slight tension in your voice — and starts shutting things down before it gets worse. He doesn’t make a scene. He just acts. Lights off. Curtains closed. Everything still. He doesn’t hover or ask too many questions, but he’ll stay close enough to be there the second you need something. He takes it seriously now — and no one around you is allowed to treat it lightly either.
Hey y’all! So turns out I myself get migraines! Not just migraines though I get a kind called an ocular migraine. Basically means my vision acts funny then I get a migraine. Scared the shit out of me the first time. I completely thought I was gonna have a whole stroke 💀 So y’know, if I ghost for a few days that’s most likely why or school. Thank y’all for the support <3
You get migraines. And the bad kind. The kind that makes your head pound, lights sting, and noise feel like it’s echoing inside your skull.
Some days, you can push through. Other days, it knocks you flat.
But your boyfriend is there to help, and he always handles it.
Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi
📝 Requests: OPEN
💙 Isagi Yoichi
When he finds out you get migraines:
He didn’t realize how bad it could be until he saw you curled up on the couch, lights off, face tense, barely able to speak. At first, he panicked, thinking you were hurt or something along those lines before he started asking questions, moving too fast, trying to “fix it” like it was a strategy problem. But when you flinched at the sound of his voice, he froze. That’s when it hit him, this wasn’t about fixing. It was about calming everything down.
__________
“Y/N?”
You didn’t answer. Not right away. Just shifted slightly, arm over your eyes, breath shallow.
Isagi knelt down beside the couch. “Hey—hey, what’s wrong?”
His voice was too loud. You flinched. Not dramatically. But enough. Of course you weren't straight up ignoring him, you just couldn't find your words, but he froze.
Then he whispered, “Shit. Sorry.”
He stood up, walked across the room, and closed the curtains. Turned off the lamp. Shut off the TV. You didn’t ask, he just did it.(Still running off a hunch that it is a migraine.) When he came back, he handed you a cold water bottle and sat down on the floor next to you, legs crossed, back against the couch. He didn’t say anything else. Didn’t ask more questions. Just sat there. Close. Quiet. A hand resting lightly near yours. Waiting until you were okay.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines.
Once he knows how bad it can get, he takes it seriously every time. The moment you mention it, he closes the curtains, dims the lights, and gets your medication and water without you asking. He lowers his voice, moves slower, and doesn’t crowd you. He stays close, usually beside the bed or on the floor near you, and only talks if you need something. He’s quiet, patient, and focused. Afterward, he always checks in to make sure he did things right and asks if there’s anything he can do better next time.
He doesn’t notice right away. You hide it well at first, brushing it off, trying to keep the conversation going even though your tone is duller, your answers shorter. He thinks you’re just tired. Maybe even annoyed with him. Then he sees it, the way your eyes keep squinting, the way your fingers rub slow circles at your temples. At first, he tries to lighten the mood. Says something sarcastic. You don’t laugh. Don’t even respond. You just sit there. Quiet. Still. That’s when it clicks. It’s not your mood. It’s your head. And now he’s watching you differently.
__________
“Hey,” he said, leaning over. “You okay?”
You didn’t answer. He watched you for a second. You weren’t mad. Just… still. Your hand was pressed against your forehead. Eyes shut tight.
Then he softened. “Is it your head?”
You nodded, barely. He didn’t push. Didn’t ask anything else. Just moved. Within a minute, the lights were off. Curtains drawn. He tossed you one of his softest hoodies and handed you water without a word. He didn’t hover. Just sat near the edge of the bed, scrolling silently on his phone, glancing at you every so often. The tension in your face stayed, but your shoulders slowly relaxed. He noticed. And he stayed right there.
And he stayed right there.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Chigiri doesn’t need reminders. Now, when you say “My head hurts,” he shuts everything down. Lights off. Room cool. No noise. He gives you your space but keeps you in sight. He doesn’t ask questions unless he has to. He’s calm, quiet, and always nearby, doing what you need before you even ask. No dramatics, no overthinking, just care, exactly how you need it.
When he finds out you get migraines:
You didn’t say anything at first, just kept rubbing your temples and pulling your sleeves over your hands. Your voice got quieter. Your answers clipped. Rin thought you were shutting down for a different reason, something deeper, maybe even about him. He kept watching you. You weren’t mad. You weren’t distant. You were in pain. His eyes widened for a second, but he didn’t say anything. Just stood up and started moving.
__________
You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, head down. Rin didn’t ask what was wrong. Didn’t poke or press. He walked across the room, pulled the curtains shut, and turned the lamp off. Then he grabbed the cold compress from the fridge, the one he’d noticed you kept tucked in the back, just in case, and placed it gently in your hand. You opened your eyes halfway.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just sat down next to you, arms resting on his knees, staring forward like it was just another quiet moment. But his leg was angled toward you. Close. Still. And he didn’t leave.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Rin doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He doesn’t talk much, but he watches everything. When you say your head hurts, he moves on autopilot, lights off, no noise, meds ready, cold compress in hand. He sits nearby but never crowds you. Always within reach, always alert. If anyone else tries to talk to you or pull your attention, he shuts it down with a look. Quiet support. No questions.
When he finds out you get migraines:
At first, he thought you were just tired. You’d been quieter than usual, rubbing your forehead, squinting at the lights. He asked if you were okay and you said, “Just a headache.” So he cracked a joke. Tried to make you laugh. You didn’t even smile. That’s when he stopped. He tilted his head. Watched your breathing. Watched how slow you were moving. And then he realized, this wasn’t normal.
__________
You were lying on the couch, blanket over your shoulders, eyes shut tight.
“Is it your head?” he asked softly, tilting his head.
You nodded once.
“Okay,” he said, voice gentler now.
He turned off the lights. Closed the blinds. Tiptoed into the kitchen and came back with a water bottle, your meds, and a cold rag folded perfectly. He knelt beside the couch, placed everything down carefully, then sat on the floor and leaned against it, quiet for once. No noise. No questions. Just soft fingers brushing your hand now and then. Just so you’d know he was still there.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Once he understands what a migraine really feels like for you, he becomes hyper aware. The second you look off or move slower than usual, he’s already dimming the lights and shutting everyone else out. He whispers. Moves quietly. Puts a cool rag on your forehead and hums softly if you let him. He doesn’t always know what to say, but he’s always there. Always warm. Always patient. His energy fades with yours, until you’re okay again.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He noticed something was off when you didn’t look up from the couch after he came home. You usually greeted him, a smile, a nod, something. But this time? Nothing. Your shoulders were tense, your face tight, hunched over, and your voice was barely there when you finally spoke.
He walked over, sat down on the edge of the couch, and said, “Hey. Talk to me.”
You whispered back, “Migraine.”
That was all he needed to hear.
__________
He didn’t ask questions. Just moved. Lights off. Curtains drawn. Kitchen light switched to the lowest setting. He grabbed your meds and water, brought them over, and helped you sit up just enough to take them. Then he guided you back down, adjusted the blanket, and sat on the floor beside you, back to the couch, one hand resting gently on your leg. Not saying a word. Just there. Solid. Still. You didn’t even have to think.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
He’s calm, steady, and proactive. Once he knows your triggers and what helps, he stays one step ahead. He keeps the lights low, limits noise, brings you food when you're able to eat, and checks the room temperature. He makes sure you take your meds, and if you fall asleep, he stays in the room to make sure you're okay. He doesn't try to fix it with words, he just shows up. Every time.
When he finds out you get migraines:
He was mid-sentence when he realized you weren’t really listening. You were, trying. Nodding, smiling, but your expression was tight, your eyes kept blinking like the light was too much. He paused and asked, “Are you okay?”
You just whispered, “Migraine. Sorry.”
He blinked. Didn’t say anything for a second. Then his demeanor shifted.
__________
“Alright,” he said gently. “Don’t move.”
He turned off the overhead lights, switched on one dim lamp behind the couch, and grabbed your meds and a cold drink from the fridge. He came back with a soft hoodie, a folded towel for under your neck, and helped you stretch out without saying much. Then he sat next to you, scrolling on his phone with one hand, the other resting lightly on your knee.
“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
And he meant it.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Reo takes it seriously from the jump. He learns your schedule, your triggers, your preferred meds, and keeps everything stocked. He adjusts the lights, cancels plans, turns on ambient noise if silence feels too heavy, whatever you need. He’s calm, focused, and attentive without being overbearing. And he won’t let anyone else get in your space while you’re recovering.
When he finds out you get migraines:
You told him once, in passing. He remembered, kind of. But it didn’t register how bad it could get until one afternoon when you were lying in bed, hoodie over your head, not answering his texts. He walked in, saw the lights off, and immediately putting his phone in his pocket.
“You good?”
You whispered, barely: “Migraine.”
His expression stayed the same, but didn’t say anything else.
__________
He left the room for a minute, maybe 2.
When he came back, he had a bottle of water, your meds, and a cold rag folded in his hand. He set everything on the nightstand. Then climbed into bed slowly, careful not to shift the mattress too much. Lay down beside you, arms behind his head. Didn’t ask. Didn’t push. Just… stayed. And after a few minutes, his hand found yours under the blanket. Quiet. Still. He didn’t need a plan. He just needed to be there.
How he helps you after learning about your migraines:
Nagi keeps it simple. He doesn’t overthink, just makes things easy. Lights off, volume down. He doesn’t talk unless you start it. He’s quick to grab your meds, keep people out of your space, and lie beside you until it passes. No pressure, no noise, just quiet care from someone who knows how to take up less space when you need it most.
Hey y’all! So turns out I myself get migraines! Not just migraines though I get a kind called an ocular migraine. Basically means my vision acts funny then I get a migraine. Scared the shit out of me the first time. I completely thought I was gonna have a whole stroke 💀
So y’know, if I ghost for a few days that’s most likely why or school.
Thank y’all for the support <3
You’ve always had stretch marks. They weren’t new. They weren’t hidden. They were just yours. And one day, he saw them.
Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou Kaiser, Niko, Sae,
Content Warning: light suggestive themes, body focused reactions, mentions of skin.
📝 Requests: OPEN
🎀 Alexis Ness
Initial Reaction
He’s the type to act soft, sweet, polite. And for the most part, he means it. Stretch marks? He’d never say anything bad about them. Never has. He thought it was something cool and unique, but they were always covered. So when he thinks about stretch marks, he assumes they’re meant to stay covered. Nothing shameful, just private. But that mindset changes fast once he sees them on you.
When he sees them on you
You were in his bed, shirt off, legs stretched over his lap. Just talking. Just existing. The conversation had drifted off. It was quiet now, the kind of silence that feels easy when you’re close to someone. That’s when his eyes caught them. Stretch marks. Scattered across your thighs, soft and exposed in the low bedroom light. He stilled. Not in shock, in something closer to fascination.
You noticed his silence and tilted your head. “What?”
He blinked, lips parting like he had to remember how to speak.
“I didn’t know you had those.”
You shifted a little. “Is that a problem?”
He shook his head, leaning in slightly, eyes still focused.
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s hot.”
You laughed once, almost unsure if he was joking. “Seriously?”
His gaze flicked up to meet yours, sharp for once.
“I’m serious love.”
Then, softer, and lower,
“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”
His hand ghosted down your leg, brushing just close enough to feel like a tease, yet he still had that soft look on his face. His voice dropped again, almost playful now.
“So beautiful.”
And the way he said it, like he wasn’t supposed to be thinking what he was thinking, made your stomach flip. Because Ness might be sweet. But right now? He wanted you. Just like this
Initial Reaction
He never thought stretch marks were something people needed to hide. He grew up around real people. Real bodies.
His mama had them, his teammates had them, old partners, and he figured if skin stretched, it was just proof you were living. He always thought they were normal. But seeing them on you? Just amazing.
When he sees them on you
You were changing in front of him, shorts riding low on your hips as you pulled on one of his hoodies. He was sitting on the bed, lost in thought, eyes trailing over you without really meaning to. Then he saw them. Stretch marks. Curved across the backs of your thighs and a little higher. Visible. Soft. Honest. His breath caught in his chest. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
You turned around, caught his stare.
“What?” you asked, halfway to teasing.
He blinked once, then again. His voice came out lower than usual, with that familiar Southern drawl.
“Darlin’,” he murmured. “You didn’t tell me you had those.”
You looked down at yourself. “My stretch marks?”
He nodded, still not looking away.
“Do they bother you?”
He leaned forward before crawling towards you, his hands slowly resting on your waist. His eyes flicked up to yours, looking down, then back up. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, slow and a little stunned.
“No, baby. Not even close..”
You raised a brow. “Why?”
He licked his lips once, voice softer now.
“Because you already looked good. But now you lookin' real. Like you got stories in your skin.”
You stared at him, red in the face.
He grinned, just a little, leaning back slightly.
“Can you show me the rest of em?"
He asked with a smirk as you leaned back.
"Mmm. Maybe."
And when you rolled your eyes and tugged the hoodie down, a teasing look in his eyes, he let out the softest sigh. Because now he knew. And he didn’t wanna forget.
Initial Reaction
Stretch marks? Never thought about them. Never cared. He likes skin. He likes heat. If your body’s soft, strong, scarred, marked, he’s into it. All of it. But stretch marks? He didn’t think they’d do anything to him. Until they did.
When he sees them on you
You were climbing over him to grab your water, shirt hanging off one shoulder, shorts loose and low. That’s when he saw them. Stretch marks. Lining the curve of your thighs, climbing up just high enough to make him blink. And he did blink. Once. Then smiled.
“Wait a fuckin’ minute,” he said, low and sharp.
You paused. “What now?”
He sat up, leaning back on his elbows like he needed a better view.
“You’ve been hiding those?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“I haven’t been hiding anything,” you muttered, annoyed. “They’ve always been there.”
His grin widened, lazy and hungry.
“Yeah. And I like that.”
You squinted. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious,” he said, sitting up fully. “You’ve got these little lines all over you and you thought I wouldn’t like em'?"
His hands came up, not quite touching, just hovering near your hips.
“Can I touch?” he asked, like a joke. Like he was being polite for once.
You nodded. Barely.
He ran his hands down your legs, slow and deliberate, tracing every dip and ridge with more focus than he’s ever shown in his life.
Initial Reaction
He’s used to perfection. Glossy bodies. Clean lines. Smooth skin.Stretch marks? He’s seen them. Didn’t think they were ugly, just… not for him. They didn’t fit the picture in his head. But you?
You never fit into his plans either. And now he’s obsessed.
When he sees them on you
You were changing in his room, shirt sliding off your shoulders, laughing about something he said. He wasn’t even paying attention to his own words anymore. Because the second you turned, he saw them. Stretch marks. Pulling across the top and sides of your chest, soft and unapologetic. He stilled. Just for a moment. You noticed.
“What?” you asked, catching him staring.
He blinked once. Slowly.
“Nothing,” he said. “You just…”
He stood up, eyes trained on you. Not flirty. Not smug. Just focused.
“…you have stretch marks.”
You gave him a look. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “That’s going to be a problem for me.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What does that even mean?”
He stepped closer, hand brushing your side like he had every right to be touching you.
He doesn’t judge. Never has. He notices people, sure. Every little shift in movement. He doesn’t obsess over bodies, not like some of the other guys do. Stretch marks? He knew they existed. Never had an issue with them. Just didn’t think he’d care that much either way. But then he saw yours. And it felt different.
When he sees them on you
You were getting dressed after a shower, towel dropped carelessly to the floor, one of his shirts halfway on. He looked up from the bed, a casual glance, nothing serious, and then froze. Stretch marks. Across the sides of your chest, curved and soft, quiet and confident. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even breathe right for a second.
You looked down at yourself, then at him. “Why are you staring?”
He blinked. Eyes still fixed. “I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
He sat up a little. Cheeks pink, but eyes focused.
“I didn’t expect you to have them,” he admitted.
You frowned. “And?”
His jaw flexed once, like he was sorting through something bigger in his head.
“And they’re cute,” he said simply.
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No,” he replied. Voice low. Real. “I mean it. They’re… kind of perfect.”
You watched him quietly for a second, waiting for a smirk, a laugh, something flippant. But he just looked at you. Still. Honest. Curious. Like he’d just seen something he wasn’t ready to stop looking at.
Initial Reaction
He’s drawn to athletic bodies. Muscle definition. Power in motion.
It’s not about vanity, it’s about performance. Precision. Control. Stretch marks? He’s seen them before. Never looked down on them. Just never paid close attention. But stretch marks on strong thighs? On your thighs? That got his attention.
When he sees them on you
You were moving across his room in nothing but his shirt, one leg up as you reached for something on the shelf. He glanced over casually and then stopped. Stretch marks. Streaked across your thighs. Curved and deep and unapologetic. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He just stared. You felt it before you saw it. His gaze, steady. Heavy.
“What?” you asked, glancing down at yourself.
His voice came low. Calm. Almost indifferent.
“I didn’t know you had those.”
You raised a brow. “Problem?”
He stood up. Walked toward you. Every step quiet.
“No,” he said. “Not even close.”
His hand brushed your outer thigh, slow and focused.
“They look strong.”
You stared at him.
He met your eyes, expression still flat, still unreadable.
“But they also look good.”
He turned away right after, already sitting down, pretending it didn’t affect him. But the next time he looked at you, it was lower. Hungrier. Like he was seeing something he wanted to remember.
You’ve always had stretch marks. They weren’t new. They weren’t hidden. They were just yours. And one day, he saw them.
Part 2: Barou, Yukimiya, Aiku, Gagamaru, Otoya, and Karasu
Content Warning: light suggestive themes, body focused reactions, mentions of skin.
📝 Requests: OPEN
🦁 Barou Shoei
Initial Reaction
Barou doesn’t think stretch marks are a big deal. He’s seen them at the gym, during weigh ins, in locker rooms. They’re normal. Not something to praise, but not something to insult either. Just... there. Real. Still, he never thought about how they’d look on someone he was dating. Not until he saw them on you.
When he sees them on you
You had been begging him to go to a spa with you for weeks. He refused every time. Said it was a waste of money, said he didn’t need to be “pampered,” said it was for people who couldn’t handle real pressure. But somehow, you wore him down. So now he’s standing in the spa’s locker room, towel slung over his shoulder, arms crossed, eyes half lidded in mild judgment. You’re across the bench, slipping on your underwear, chatting casually about which sauna to hit first.
And then you turn to grab your lotion, and he sees them. Stretch marks. Across your hips. Your thighs. Faint in some places, deeper in others. Unbothered. Visible. And just like that, his brain stalls. He goes quiet. Still. Not because he’s shocked, but because you’ve never looked more human. More yours. And he likes that. Way more than he expected. You pause, catching his expression through the mirror.
“What now?” you sigh. “If you complain about the body scrub, I swear—” He walks over slowly, still holding the towel, still too quiet.
“You could’ve told me you had those,” he mutters.
You blink. “Would it have mattered?”
He shrugs. Looks down once more. Then back up at you.
“Nah. But I would've asked to see 'em sooner.”
You stare at him.
He turns around, throws the towel over his neck like it’s nothing, and grumbles under his breath.
“Hurry up. We’re going to that sauna. You already got me here, don’t make me regret it.”
But the whole walk there, you feel his eyes on you. Every curve. Every mark. Like he’d already decided, he liked this version of you best.
Initial Reaction
Yukimiya’s entire life has been built around appearances. In his world, beauty is precise. Skincare matters. Presentation is everything.
So it’s not that he didn’t like stretch marks, he just never thought about them. They didn’t show up in the circles he moved in. Not on runways. Not in magazines. He’d seen them, sure. But never really seen them. Not up close. Not without shame attached. Until you.
When he sees them on you
You were both in the spa changing room, dim lighting, low music, eucalyptus in the air. You had just slipped out of your towel, skin still dewy from the steam. And when you turned, he saw them. Stretch marks. Curving with your shape like a soft map. He stilled. It wasn’t surprise. Not really. More like… realization.
That he’d been surrounded by edited bodies his whole life, and this was the first time something felt honest. His hand reached for his shirt, but he paused again, eyes still locked on you. You noticed.
“Don’t stare,” you muttered, reaching for your robe.
But he shook his head once. Quiet. Focused.
“I’m not staring,” he said. “I’m appreciating.”
You snorted. “You sound like you’re about to paint me.”
He stepped closer, robe hanging loose around his shoulders.
“Don’t tempt me,” he murmured, eyes flicking down once more. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
You turned away, face hot, heart loud.
But as he reached for your hand and pulled you gently toward him, you could tell, he wasn’t just saying that to be sweet. He meant it.
And something about those marks?
He wasn’t going to forget them anytime soon
Initial Reaction
He’s cocky and experienced. He’s seen a lot. Hookups, flings, bodies in every shape and filter. Stretch marks? He’s seen them here and there. Didn’t think much about them. They were whatever. Part of life. But the ones that made him stop? The ones on you.
When he sees them on you
You were changing in his room, half talking, half distracted. Your shirt slipped over your head, revealing your chest in just your bra, and that’s when he noticed them. Stretch marks. Faint, raised, curved over the top of your breasts and down the sides. He blinked.
Not because he was shocked, but because it caught him in a way nothing else had. He leaned back slightly, his eyes lingering for a second longer than he should’ve.
You paused, caught his stare, and frowned.
“What?” you asked, self conscious now. “What are you looking at?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he stood slowly, walked over, and rested his hands lightly on your hips. Then he looked down again, not at your chest, but at the marks across it.
“These,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t know you had them.”
You swallowed. “Is that a problem?”
He looked up. Locked eyes with you.
“Are you serious?” he said. “No. That’s hot as hell.”
You blinked.
He leaned in slightly, voice softer now. “I don’t even know why. It just is.”
And then his fingers brushed your side, gentle, respectful, like he wasn’t trying to ruin the moment, just feel it.
“Can I see them again?”
That wasn’t a pickup line. That was real curiosity. Real want. And from that point on? You noticed he always looked a little longer when your shirt came off. Not just at your chest. But at the lines across it. Like he’d found something new to admire. And he wasn’t about to forget it.
Initial Reaction
He’s not picky about bodies. Never has been. Stretch marks? He’s seen them on teammates, in passing, on people close to him.
They don’t bother him. He actually thinks they look kind of cool, like tiger prints. But he never really had a moment where they stuck with him. Until he saw them on you.
When he sees them on you
You were in his room, digging through your bag for a clean shirt. He was sitting on the floor, half watching something on TV, totally spaced out. Then you stood up, pulled your shirt off, and tossed it on the bed like it was nothing. That’s when he saw them. Stretch marks. Across the top and sides of your chest. Subtle, curved, honest. He blinked. Paused the TV without thinking. His head tilted slightly. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know what.
You looked over your shoulder. “What?”
He just stared.
“What?” you asked again, a little more cautious this time.
He blinked. Slowly stood. Crossed the room in three quiet steps. His hand didn’t reach for you. He didn’t crowd your space.
Just looked. Eyes steady. Breath low.
“You’re so pretty,” he said softly.
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that because you saw my stretch marks?”
He nodded.
You waited for him to explain, but that was it. Just that nod. Just that quiet look. Then, finally, his hand lifted, big and warm, resting lightly at your side.
“I like them,” he added after a second. “I like all of you.”
Simple. Honest. And when you leaned into him, he wrapped his arms around you like he meant it. Because he did.
Initial Reaction
He’s been around. He flirts, he hooks up, he moves on. Stretch marks? He’s seen them. He’s kissed over them. Thought they looked nice in the moment, but never thought much deeper than that. To him, they weren’t weird. Just not something he fixated on. Then he started liking you. And everything changed.
When he sees them on you
You were getting ready for bed in his apartment. Shirt off. Hair tied back. You were reaching for one of his tees when the light hit your chest just right. That’s when he saw them. Stretch marks. Faint and curved, sitting just along the sides of your breasts. His whole rhythm stopped.
You noticed his silence and turned toward him. “What?”
His mouth opened like he was gonna joke, but nothing came out.
He just stared for a second, like he didn’t mean to.
You raised a brow. “Seriously, what?”
His eyes flicked up to yours.
“I didn’t know you had those,” he said, softer than usual.
You crossed your arms. “Is that bad?”
He stepped closer, voice low.
“No. It’s not bad. It’s... kind of unfair, honestly.”
You blinked. “Unfair?”
“You’re already fine,” he said, eyes moving down and back up. “But now you’ve got these too? Kinda not fair for the rest of us.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes, trying to hide your smile. But he was already reaching for you, hand resting lightly at your waist. His fingers brushed along your side, over every line without hesitation.
“You look really good like this,” he said, more to himself than to you.
And just like that, the flirty mood shifted into something quieter.
More focused. Because yeah, he still wanted you. But now? He wanted all of you.
Initial Reaction
He knows what he likes. Clean lines, smooth skin. The kind of body that looks like it moves well, perfect. model type of boy or a porn star. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’s used to a certain kind of look. Stretch marks were never something he hated. But they weren’t something he looked for either. If you asked him a year ago? He probably would’ve said he preferred people without them. But now? Now he’d keep that opinion to himself.
When he sees them on you
You were changing after a shower, towel around your waist, skin still damp. You turned to grab your lotion, and in that quick shift, he saw them. Stretch marks across the sides of your chest, the tops of your breasts. He stared longer than he meant to. Not in a hungry way. Not in a shocked way. In a processing way.
You noticed immediately.
“Do I have something on me?”
“No,” he said. Voice too even.
You squinted. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
He looked away for a second. Exhaled once.
Then looked back at you, slower this time.
“I didn’t think you’d have those.”
You crossed your arms. “And?”
He stepped forward.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just wasn’t expecting it. But it looks good.”
You stared at him, unsure if he was being serious. He raised a brow like he already knew what you were thinking.
“You look good. I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Then he turned away, like it didn’t rattle him. Like he hadn’t just had something shift quietly in his head. But for the rest of the night? He didn’t stop thinking about it. Didn’t stop glancing over whenever your shirt shifted or your robe slipped. Didn’t stop wondering why something he never cared about before suddenly felt… important.
You’ve always had stretch marks. They weren’t new. They weren’t hidden. They were just yours. And one day, he saw them.
Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi
Content Warning: light suggestive themes, body focused reactions, mentions of skin.
📝 Requests: OPEN
💙 Isagi Yoichi
Initial Reaction
He doesn’t really think about stretch marks much at all.
Not because he finds them weird or gross, but because he’s just never been exposed to real, unfiltered bodies outside of sports, magazines, porn and whatnot. He's only seen them a handful of times online and honestly forgot they were a thing.
When he sees them on you
You were pulling down your shorts, changing in front of your boyfriend. It was a hot day and you and Isagi were about to go out for an afternoon walk. You wanted to be in something breathable. Nothing dramatic. Just a flash of skin and there they were.
And for some reason, he couldn't look away.
He didn’t say anything in the moment.
Just blinked. Let his gaze soften.
And when you looked over at him, he smiled.
His eyes widened, his cheeks turning a little pink. He didn’t say anything in the moment. Didn’t comment. Didn’t stare. (for too long) Just blinked. Let his gaze soften. And when you looked over at him, he smiled. Not out of politeness. Not forced.
Just quiet.
Because they were yours. And that made them feel like something worth looking at differently.
By this point, Isagi was just staring and it was starting to freak you out, like his eyes were stuck.
"Isagi. What are you doing??" You asked, brows furrowed.
He blinked a couple times before coming to his senses, shaking his head slightly and looking away, cheeks still warm. "N-Nothing.. you're just, so pretty,” He whispered, Like he was nervous to say it himself.
Your eyes widened, looking at his flushed face. That's not what you were expecting him to say at all. You stare at his face before smiling, grabbing the keys on the nightstand. "Thank you baby. Let's go"
Isagi gained the courage to look back at you once you had your shorts on before nodding and walking behind you.
But in his head? He took a mental picture of it. Every mark. Every inch. Every line. He loved it, and wanted to see more of it.
Initial Reaction
Chigiri had seen stretch marks before, they weren't anything new to him, but he didn't think much of them. They were always in the background of his head. He never thought negatively about them, he had his own scars on his body but he wasn't actively looking for a girl with stretch marks. He wouldn’t call himself well informed either.
If anything, he thought they looked kind of cool. Like proof that your body had lived. Still, he never gave them much thought, until he saw them on you.
When he sees them on you
You were changing out of your leggings, swapping them for a pair of loose shorts you’d just pulled from the dryer. It was casual, quiet, something you’d done in front of him before. But this time, the light hit you differently. And there they were. Your stretch marks.
And he paused. Not because they surprised him, but because he hadn’t noticed them until now, and suddenly they were all he could see. Not in a bad way. Not at all. He was just caught on the way they curved with your shape, how natural they looked on your skin.
His mouth parted slightly. He blinked, slow.
You didn’t notice at first. But when you finally turned around and caught him staring, your brow arched. "Why are you looking at me like that?”
Chigiri blinked again, startled out of his trance. A soft flush crept into his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he muttered, eyes flicking away for a second before finding you again. “Just got distracted.." That was all he managed.
You rolled your eyes playfully, smoothing down your shorts before grabbing your water bottle. "Cat got your tongue princess?"
His eyes widened as he looked away, brows now furrowed before grabbing his bag, still glancing at you every few seconds. "You know I hate that."
But in his head?
He was filing it away. The way you looked. The way you didn’t hide.
And how he suddenly found himself appreciating something he'd barely paid attention to before. Because now? He loved it,
and couldn’t wait to see it again.
Initial Reaction
If he was being honest, and Rin rarely is, even with himself, he always pictured himself with a certain kind of girl. Clean lines. Slim frame. No visible marks. It wasn’t about being judgmental. It was just the image in his head. He liked what was neat. Polished. He never thought too deeply about stretch marks. Just figured it wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. Until you.
When he sees them on you
You were reaching for your shirt. Just got out of the shower. Still warm, still damp. You turned away from him to grab something from your drawer, and in that moment, he saw them. The stretch marks across your waist, curling over your hips and lower back. He froze.
And for a few seconds, he didn’t know what to do.
It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t surprise. It was confusion.
Because his brain registered something that went against what he always thought he wanted, but his body didn’t hesitate. His gaze dragged over every line like he was studying them.
Not with judgment, but curiosity. Interest. Maybe even something closer to awe. You turned to look at him, towel still tucked under your arms.
“What?” you asked, neutral but cautious.
He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t trust his voice. Then finally, he said, almost flatly, “Come here.”
You frowned a little. “Why?”
“Just... come here.”
So you did.
He reached for you slowly, letting his fingers ghost along your side, then settle on your hip. His thumb brushed the edge of one of the marks, like he was trying to understand it through touch. His expression didn’t change much. But his voice softened, just barely.
“I didn’t know you had these.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”
“No.”
A pause. Then quieter,
“I like them.”
You stared at him for a second, unsure if you heard him right. But Rin didn’t look away. Didn’t explain it. Just kept his hand there. And that was the moment you realized he didn’t want perfect anymore.
He just wanted you.
Initial Reaction
Stretch marks? Yeah, he’s seen them before, on social media, magazines, and if we are being honest barely in porn. He didn't see them a lot, but he never once thought of them as weird. If anything, he thought they looked cool. If you asked him directly? He’d admit it. He’s into them. Always has been. Something about the lines, the texture, the way they make people look... real. Lowkey a turn on if we are being fr.
He never had a problem voicing how he liked them to whoever asked, it was true after all. And then you came along. and you were the full package.
When he sees them on you
You were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone, wearing one of his oversized shirts and nothing else but your underwear. The way it bunched up around your hips, the way the light hit your skin, that’s when he noticed them. And wow. His brain stopped working. Not in a respectful boyfriend kind of way. Not entirely. More like… holy shit, I wanna put my hands there. His mouth parted a little. He tilted his head.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, catching your attention.
You glanced back lazily. “Hm?”
“You have stretch marks,” he said, grinning.
You blinked. Cautious. “...Yeah?”
Then he flopped on the bed beside you, chin in his hand, eyes on your thighs. “They’re hot.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You’re just saying that.”
“I’m really not,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “I’m losing my mind over them.” You stared at him for a second.
His smile didn’t drop.
He reached out, fingers trailing along the curve of your hip. Gentle, like he was tracing art.
“You look good like this,” he said. “Like… real good.”
And that was the end of that.
You weren’t embarrassed anymore. Because he looked at you like you’d just become his favorite thing he’d ever seen.
"You gonna let me see the rest of them?"
He asked with his regular smile, but you could see it in his eyes. He wanted to see the rest of the artwork on your body.
Initial Reaction
If he was being honest, stretch marks weren’t really something he thought about. Not in a judgmental way, just not something he expected to see due to what the media put out. When he pictured intimacy, he imagined smooth skin, soft lighting, that movie perfect moment. He didn’t even know he had that expectation until it got challenged, and you challenged it without saying a word.
When he sees them on you
You were changing, half focused on your hair in the mirror, shirt already off. You reached for a pair of shorts, and when you bent forward just slightly, he saw them. The stretch marks along your thighs, soft and steady across your skin. And for a second, he froze. His mouth parted. His breath caught. Not out of discomfort, but because it was not what he was expecting. And that did something to him.
You turned around and caught his expression, eyes narrowed slightly.
“What?”
Kunigami blinked. Looked away. Ears already turning red. "Nothing,” he muttered, voice low. “You just... I didn’t know you had those.”
You raised an eyebrow, looking down. You were confused. You've seen your stretch marks so many times you didn't even notice them anymore. You had to really look at what your boyfriend was looking at to see what he was referring to. “You mean stretch marks?”
He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “Yeah.”
You watched him carefully. “Is that... a problem?”
He looked back at you then. Really looked.
“No,” he said, almost too fast. Then slower, like he was still figuring it out himself, “It’s not a problem. It’s just... I didn’t expect them. But now that I’ve seen them... I kinda—” He swallowed.
“—want to see more.”
Your eyes widened slightly.
He stepped closer, gaze flicking down, lingering for just a second.
“They’re... really pretty on you.”
And just like that, the room felt smaller. Warmer. Like maybe he wasn’t as innocent as you thought.
Initial Reaction
Reo lives in a world that’s all about image. Luxury. Perfection. Airbrushed everything. Even the people around him feel too carefully edited sometimes. So no, stretch marks weren’t something he thought about, borderline even knew about. Because they didn’t show up in the spaces he usually moved through. (Other than Nagi occasionally mentioning them) But the truth? He wouldn’t have cared either way. Until you. And now? Yeah, it’s a little bit of a thing for him.
When he sees them on you
You were getting dressed after a shower, towel tucked under your arms, skin still warm. You reached for your lotion, one leg propped on the edge of the bed. And that’s when he saw them. Across your thighs. Up your sides. Clear. Unapologetic. He froze. Then blinked. Then he tilted his head a little. Something about the way they caught the light. The way they curved with your body. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to stare.
You looked up at him through the mirror, catching the shift in his expression. “What?” you asked, half laughing.
He blinked again, eyes flicking up to yours. Then he smiled. Slow. A little sheepish.
“Nothing,” he said. “You just look... good.”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “That’s it?”
He hesitated. Then stood, crossing the room in a few easy steps. When he reached you, his hands found your waist. His thumbs brushed over the marks without hesitation. “I didn’t know that’d be something I liked,” he said softly, almost to himself. You looked at him. He looked at your skin like it was something made to be seen.
“Now I won't be able to stop thinking about them,” he added. And he meant it.
Initial Reaction
Stretch marks weren’t on his radar. At all. He’s not the kind of guy who scrolls through curated bodies online. Sure he sees bodies all the time, models, beaches, porn. Doesn’t care about filters or trends or what’s “ideal.” He’s barely paying attention to anything that doesn’t directly affect his comfort. He always thought the girls online seemed so clearly fake and edited. So the few times he did see stretch marks, it caught his eye.
When he sees them on you
You were lying across the bed, phone in hand, half asleep. His shirt rode up just a little, and your shorts sat low on your hips. That’s when he saw them. Stretch marks, soft and natural, curved with your shape like they belonged there. His eyes lingered longer than he realized. His brain went still for a second. It wasn’t shock.
It caught his attention.
“Hey,” he muttered, voice low.
You glanced over, yawning. “What?”
He didn’t answer right away. He rolled over next to you, hand sliding lazily to your hip, fingers brushing over the lines.
“Don’t cover these,” he said, so casually it made your heart trip.
You blinked. “.. Okay."
“Good,” he mumbled. “I like them.”
You laughed, a little caught off guard. “Really?”
He nodded into the pillow. “Yeah. They look good.”
Then he closed his eyes again like it was no big deal. But his hand stayed there. Fingers tracing those same lines like they belonged to him. And in his head? They kind of did.
"Maybe we'll meet at a bar, he'll drive a funky car."
somewhere between a road trip and a night out, you found exactly what you weren't looking for.
Part 3: Ness, Hiori, Shidou, Kaiser, Niko, Sae,
📝 Requests: OPEN
It started as a simple plan, a road trip with your friends. No maps. No rules. Just music loud enough to drown out everything else and enough bad decisions to make it memorable. You didn’t expect anything serious. Not love, not anything that would last longer than the night.
But somewhere between dusty highways, pit stops and pictures, you found yourselves at a nowhere-town bar, tired, sunburned, laughing, just looking for one more memory before the night ended.
And that’s when you saw him. Not planned. Not even close.
But maybe, just maybe, the universe had better plans than you ever could’ve made.
🎀 Alexis Ness
The one who looked too perfect to be real. Until he looked at you like maybe you were too.
You spot him before you even make it to the bar.
He’s standing near the end of the counter, framed by dim lights and soft music, his posture relaxed like he belongs there.
He’s talking to the bartender, laughing at something they say, and you think
Of course.
Of course someone like him would be here, looking that good, sounding that smooth, catching every eye in the room without even trying.
You try not to look again.
But you do.
And this time, he catches you.
He smiles, not the flirty kind. Not the kind that says "I do this all the time."
It’s smaller. Quieter. Like maybe he’s not as sure of himself as he looks.
You hesitate.
But then your friend nudges you forward, and somehow you’re moving before you can talk yourself out of it.
When you get close, he straightens a little. Still smiling. Still watching you like you’re something he doesn’t want to blink and miss.
"Hi," you say, barely louder than the music.
His smile grows, just enough to feel like something real.
"Hi," he says back. Then, after a pause
"You have no idea how long I’ve been hoping you’d come over."
You blink.
He chuckles, hand sliding over his drink like it grounds him.
"I mean," he adds, a little sheepish, "I was gonna say something, but you looked like you’d hear it a hundred times already."
You tilt your head. "And you were gonna say…?"
He shrugs, eyes soft.
"Just... hi. And that I’m glad you’re here."
And somehow, in a bar full of noise, lights, and faces you’ll forget tomorrow
that one sentence stays with you.
The one you almost missed. But couldn’t stop thinking about after.
You notice him because he is not trying to be noticed.
He is sitting near the back, sipping a soda, head tilted slightly like he is just people watching.
No loud laughter. No big gestures.
Just quiet.
The bar is buzzing around you. The music is low and heavy. Your friends are scattered across the room, pulling you toward the dance floor, toward another round of shots.
But your eyes keep drifting back to him.
He is calm in the chaos.
And when he glances up and catches you staring, his expression doesn’t change.
He just looks at you like he already knew you would.
You wait a moment.
Then you make your way over, slowly, wondering if maybe he’ll look away.
He doesn’t.
When you reach his table, he leans forward a little, like he is offering you something without saying a word.
“Hey,” you say softly.
“Hey there,” he says back. His voice is soft and warm, that quiet Southern lilt curling around the words like sugar and sun.
You gesture at the empty seat across from him. “This taken?”
He shakes his head, smiling easy.
“Not unless you're plannin' to sit in it,” he says.
You laugh, and he looks just a little shy about it, eyes flicking away for a second like he didn’t mean to charm you so easily.
You sit down. Neither of you speaks for a few seconds.
Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself, he says it.
“You looked like someone I’d regret not meetin’.”
It’s low, almost like he wasn’t sure he should say it out loud.
The one who thought no one could surprise him. Until you walked in like you weren’t even trying to.
You barely notice him at first.
There’s music thumping through the floor, lights flashing low and blue, your friends dragging you through the crowd toward the bar.
Another night, another drink, another stop on a summer road trip that feels like a dream you’ll barely remember.
You are laughing at something stupid. Swiping hair out of your face. Just trying to get to the counter when your eyes catch on him.
He is sitting near the end of the bar, 2 girls talking to him while dressed too well for this place, legs stretched out like he owns it.
One hand wrapped around a glass he hasn’t touched. The other resting on his knee as he watches the room like it’s beneath him.
He wasn't listening to these girls. Sure they were cute but they bored him.
Till your eyes meet. And for a second, it feels like neither of you were supposed to be here but somehow still are.
He does not smile.
Not at first.
Just lifts his brows slightly. Like he is curious. Like you’re not what he expected.
You look away. On purpose.
Because someone like him?
He is used to people staring too long. Laughing too hard. Walking over too fast.
You don’t do any of that.
You order your drink. Lean into your friends. Try not to look again.
But you feel him.
Still watching.
When you glance back, he's saying goodbyes to the ladies he was with and already moving towards you. Smooth steps. Expensive shoes. Every part of him so sure of himself it’s almost annoying.
Until he stops in front of you.
"Hey," he says, voice calm and low. "You always walk in looking like you don’t need anyone?"
You sip your drink.
"Only when I don’t," you say.
He pauses. Blinks once.
Then he laughs. It’s quiet but real. Like you caught him off guard.
"Kaiser," he says, tilting his head. "You gonna tell me your name or make me work for it?"
You think about it. Then smile.
"Work for it."
And suddenly, Kaiser does not feel like the one in control anymore.
The one you didn’t mean to notice. But couldn’t stop watching once you did.
You’re scanning the bar for a place to breathe.
The music is loud. Your friends are already pulling toward the dance floor. There’s energy in the room, buzzing and hot, but your eyes catch on something different.
Or rather, someone.
He’s sitting alone, near the back.
All black hoodie. Hair falling into his face. Fingers lightly tapping against his glass like he’s lost in thought.
He doesn’t look like he’s waiting for anyone.
He doesn’t look like he wants to be found.
But something about him makes you stop anyway.
Maybe it’s the way he seems focused on nothing in particular, like he’s not really here.
Or maybe it’s the way he glances up for just a second, and his eyes flick past you so fast it almost doesn’t count.
Almost.
You head toward the bar, not thinking too hard about it.
Your shoulder brushes his table as you pass, and he looks up again, this time fully.
You pause. Turn toward him a little.
“Hey,” you say softly, nodding toward the chair across from him. “Mind if I sit?”
He blinks once, then shakes his head.
“No. Go ahead.”
You drop into the seat, pulling your drink close. There’s a long, quiet beat. You expect him to go back to ignoring the room.
But he doesn’t.
“I thought you were with someone,” he says, voice quiet but direct.
You raise a brow. “And?”
He shrugs, looks down at his drink.
“Didn’t think you’d come over.”
You lean forward just enough for him to notice.
“And you didn’t think I’d notice you either.”
That gets a small smile out of him.
“You’re not like the people I usually meet in places like this,” he says.
“Good,” you reply. “Neither are you.”
And just like that, the noise fades behind you.
Like the bar stopped spinning the second you sat down.
The one who didn’t look interested in anyone. Until he looked at you.
You’re not sure what made you notice him.
He’s sitting alone with a drink in hand and his eyes scanning the room like nothing here is worth his time.
Posture perfect. Expression unreadable.
Like he is already halfway out the door even while sitting still.
No one talks to him.
Maybe because of the way he carries himself. Or maybe because he looks like he wouldn’t respond if they did.
But that is exactly why your eyes keep finding him.
Not because of how he looks, though he’s hard to ignore.
Not because of what he wears or the way he sits.
It’s the stillness. The quiet.
The sense that nothing touches him.
You watch him longer than you mean to.
And when his eyes flick up and land on yours, something clicks.
You expect him to look away.
Instead, he holds your stare. Calm. Curious.
You walk over.
He doesn’t move when you slide into the seat beside him. Doesn’t say anything either.
You wait a second, then lean in just slightly.
“Didn’t think I’d catch you staring,” you say.
“I wasn’t,” he answers.
But there’s a faint lift at the corner of his mouth. Like he knows he’s lying. Like he knows you know it too.
“You look like someone who doesn’t usually stay long,” you say.
“I don’t,” he replies.
“Planning to leave now?”
He looks at you again. Slower this time.
“I haven’t decided.”
You don’t press. You just sit there with him in the low hum of the room.
And for once, Sae doesn’t feel like he’s wasting time.
